Mitzvah
by Juulna
Summary: After TFA, Rey's past sweeps her away to a home where she finds herself entangled in the lives of those around her, caring for the people who have become family to her. Yet when the First Order arrives, will Rey leave? Or will she stay with her newly discovered family? When marriage is demanded of her in order to protect her people, what will her decision be? [Reylo][Reposted]
1. Chapter 1

**Note:** **Hello everyone, old and new. :)**

 **This fic was originally posted on April 24th, 2016. Last year. In January 2017, my account was hacked and my fics were removed without my consent. Instead of returning and reposting immediately, I took a bit of a break from the fandom entirely to recuperate and heal. I'm now back, and started reposting some of my other old works almost three weeks ago. I don't know quite why I didn't start with Mitzvah, but ah well, here I am. :P**

 **I did also start a new Reylo baby fic, by the way! I'm very excited about it. :D It's called _'_** ** _I'd start a war for you'_.**

 **Thanks goes out to my lovely betas, Annaelle and Perry_Downing. I can't do anything without you ladies. I love you. xoxo**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any Star Wars characters or the universe they reside in. Original characters are mine, as well as the planetary system where the majority of this story takes place, although they are influenced by Star Wars.**

 **Oh and P.S. The rating will increase to M a little down the road.**

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 ** _Mitzvah: a meritorious or charitable act._**

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"We are responsible for the world in which we find ourselves, if only because we are the only sentient force which can change it."

 **\- James Baldwin**

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Rey and Luke's heads both shot up at the same time when the sudden roar of an engine filled the air. They were locked together, lightsabers flaring against each other, but they both froze at the sound, staring into the sky surrounding Ahch-To.

Suddenly Rey found her legs swept out from underneath of her, her lightsaber flung away, and Luke's held inches from her throat. "You mustn't let anything distract you, Rey," Luke said teasingly as he helped her stand up. "That could have cost you your life were this a real duel."

"Yes, Master Luke," Rey grumbled, though there was no real bite to it. She knew that he was right.

"Now… let's see who has come to visit," Luke said as he clipped his saber to his belt, adjusting his robes around him from where they'd been disarrayed from their training session.

Rey stared up at the sky with increasingly wide eyes. "Master Luke? I believe there's something more than a visit going on…"

Above them, she and Luke could see at least a dozen gleaming silver and gold ships shooting towards their island, aiming straight for them. At the front of the formation, however, was a familiar sight – the _Millennium Falcon_ – closely followed by what appeared to be General Organa's command shuttle.

"It appears you're right, Rey. Let's go see what's going on."

By the time they made it down to the base of the island, the _Falcon_ , the General's shuttle, and one of the sleek, foreign spacecrafts had settled on the rocky beach. The remaining ships were flying in a holding pattern overhead.

Rey and Luke stood side by side on the bottom step of the rock stairs leading to the island's heights, watching as passengers unloaded from all three ships. Rey was delighted to see Leia Organa again, who was closely followed by Chewbacca, Poe Dameron and his little droid BB-8, as well as a coterie of advisers and Resistance soldiers acting as guards. She shot a quick smile towards them as they came closer, but her gaze was quickly pulled away to the foreigners.

She'd never seen a sight quite like it before; even in the few holovids she'd had access to over the years on occasion. There were a half-dozen men – or women; she couldn't quite tell – arrayed around a man who was taking point as they strode forwards. All of them had a helmet on that matched their resplendent silver and gold armor, except for the man in front. He carried his helmet tucked under his arm, and he wore a purple sash across his chest that set him apart.

"Master? Do you recognize the ships or the people?" Rey queried softly.

"No," he answered quickly.

Rey looked up and saw that his lips were pursed as he pondered the sight before him. She returned her gaze to the two groups, watching as both groups came to a halt a dozen or so paces away from the two Force users.

Leia and the leader of the other delegation walked the rest of the way together, though they were both clearly trying to leave space between them.

Leia greeted her twin brother with a hug and a small smile, drawing back after only a brief moment.

"Leia," Luke greeted her, "It warms my heart to see you again, sister."

"It's only been a month, Luke," Leia teased, "Though if you hadn't disappeared for years, we might not have so much to catch up on, even now."

Rey caught the bitter twist to her Master's lips before he plastered on a smile for the benefit of the stranger observing them. "What brings you here? We've only been training a couple of months and I thought we would have the remainder of the year," Luke directed at the General.

Leia opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. Rey had only met the General a handful of times, but she had never seen her look as out-of-sorts as she did in that moment.

Luke gazed concernedly at his sister and was about to speak again when the stranger took a step forward.

"I believe I can answer that," he announced.

He hadn't taken his eyes off of Rey since he'd stepped off of his ship, but Rey was only just now feeling uncomfortable at the attention. She glanced at Luke, who was looking back and forth between Rey and the strange man, his gaze sharpening the longer he looked.

The man was thin, though muscular, and seemed to be in his mid-forties. His hair and neatly-trimmed beard was a reddish-brown that contrasted nicely with the vibrant purple across his chest.

Leia gestured for the man to continue, blanking her face.

"Would you rather talk somewhere we can sit?" the other man asked first, still staring at Rey.

Luke shook his head. "I'd rather we get this over with so that we can return to our schedule as soon as possible.

The man shifted uncomfortably. "That… may not be possible," he said gruffly.

Luke simply raised an eyebrow.

"I am Lieutenant Miron Tavi," he announced, his voice firming up. "I come from the planetary system of Itamar. Suffice it to say, it has been a long journey from our home. But we had to come when we saw this young woman's image being circulated."

Rey didn't need to ask what he meant – she'd seen the wanted posters put forth by the First Order… everyone had.

"Look, I'll just come straight out and say it all. This is going to sound vaguely unbelievable, but please try to let me finish before you say anything." He glanced at all three of them for the first time since arriving, before settling his gaze back on Rey. "When we saw pictures of you, especially of your hair style," he gestured towards Rey's three buns and she couldn't help but lift her hand self-consciously towards them, "we were elated. We've been looking for a girl around your age for over a decade now, and when we saw you… we just had to track down all possibilities, so we set up a meeting with Princess Organa. We were able to confirm our suspicions that you are, indeed, the girl we've been looking for. The DNA that the Resistance had on file from your lab work matches our samples, and the hair style is very common for girls to wear in our culture. Your mother was… she was my sister."

Rey nearly sobbed as she listened to this man explain easily what she had been struggling with for over a decade. These people had thought she was important enough to look for, for so long? She was important enough to track down, to have her DNA tested, to… to… there were people who had cared about her all along, even when she had thought she'd been _abandoned_? To learn she hadn't been abandoned after all? For why would they have looked for her if she'd been left there on purpose?

She couldn't help but believe that everything this man was saying was true, and to hear the word "was" being used, linked to the word "mother"… confirmation that her mother was dead… a mother she'd never had, but had dreamed about nearly every day of her life…? How was she killed? It must have been the only thing that had stopped her from coming back for her child, Rey told herself. She _had_ to believe that. Sadness welled up inside of her, nearly consuming her, until Leia reached over and picked up her hand with her own. The touch of skin to skin, and a pulse of comfort sent from the other Force user, was enough to calm her.

Miron had stopped speaking, looking at her in concern. His kind eyes nearly set her to spiraling again, but Luke gripped her other hand and halted that before it could even begin.

As soon as he saw her calming down, he continued. "It's hard to hear, but your mother and father are both dead. They were assassinated over fifteen years ago, and the same plot attempted to take your life. You were saved by your personal guard, my brother, your uncle Saul… he was killed shortly after, but we were able to piece together that he had left you on a planet – we didn't know which – temporarily, in an effort to deal with your pursuers. That tactic failed, as he was soon after killed by the same assassins. We had no confirmation on if you were alive or dead, however, and our guard's task transferred from protecting your family to _finding_ you. We have been searching for you ever since. When the events of Starkiller occurred –" Rey flinched. "– we had never felt so much hope of success for our task as we did then."

Rey stared at the man. This man was her… _uncle_? She had a _family_? She had no idea what to say to him, or about any of this. She was frozen, locked inside of her mind, caught between the desire to cry at the loss of parents and an uncle she didn't even remember, and the desire to fling herself gracelessly into the armored arms of the man before her.

As if sensing her conflict, Luke spoke up. "You say 'assassination' and 'guards' as if they are words commonplace to you, and yet they are not to us – not in this context. Are you trying to tell us that Rey's family was some sort of dignitaries?"

Miron looked as if he wanted to take a step towards Rey; as if he wished to gather her in his arms and comfort her as tears slipped silently from her eyes and down her cheeks. She was glad that he did not, however – she needed her space desperately at the moment.

Instead, he answered Luke's question. "Yes, Master Skywalker," Miron replied gravely. "In fact, they were part of the royal family of Itamar. Omet Ammiel took my sister, Darrah, to wife nearly twenty-five years ago. He was the only son of the King, Abimelech. Now there is just him… and you. I have been tasked with finding you and returning with you, and it has been my mission for fifteen years to do so. At last, my search is _over_."

He sounded so happy, that Rey couldn't help but smile at the man, though fleetingly. Her head was spinning, however, and she found herself staring off into the distance, a frown creeping across her features. Rey completely ignored _who_ her family was purported to be, instead focusing on the fact that she might have a family _at all_. She had been burned so many times with false hope in the past, on many different topics and occasions, and she couldn't help but doubt what this man was telling her. But… she _wanted_ to believe. The Force, though new to her, was humming happily in her mind, and seemed to be wrapping her in comforting layers. It had not led her astray these last few months of training… why would it now?

"I…" she started, and then closed her mouth again. Miron was looking at her, expression open, honest, and expectant. "Can I please have a few minutes to discuss this with my Master and the General, my lord?" She didn't quite know how to address him, but she would rather err on the side of caution and politeness.

He nodded and then bowed to her, turning around and marching towards his group of guardsmen to give them space.

Rey squeezed Luke and Leia's hands one more time, and then dropped them before wrapping her arms around her torso. "What do you think?" she asked faintly. She wanted their opinions – she trusted them, especially when she was having trouble thinking in an unbiased manner.

"I can't sense anything but truth coming from the man," Luke replied, his mechanical hand coming up to stroke his beard absently.

Leia spoke up, sounding in turns resigned and happy – happy for Rey. Rey smiled at the older woman. "I did some fact-checking before we came here – I'm sorry for that, by the way, Luke," she directed at her brother.

He waved her off. "It's alright. I was going to move us back your way soon enough. You didn't meet with him at the base, did you?"

"I might be getting old, but I'm not senile, Luke," she glared at him. He raised his hands in surrender. "Anyway," she said as she turned back to Rey. "As I said, I did some fact-checking. He _is_ from Itamar, that much is for certain. And the DNA tests – his _and_ ours – came back positive. There's no doubt about it. You are his niece, and you are related to all of the other samples he provided. I suppose congratulations are in order, but I can tell you're a little overwhelmed so we'll skip that part for now… I knew the royal family – your family, I suppose – back in the day when my father, Bail, would bring me on diplomatic missions, and to the occasional Senate session. Only vaguely, though – just enough to open a reasonably courteous dialogue if need be. I don't remember this Darrah that Miron is mentioning, but I looked her up and all of the facts check out.

"They definitely did lose their Crown Prince and his consort to assassination around the same time that you gave us as an estimate for your… abandonment on Jakku. They had a daughter, who is the right age to have been you. And… there is _this_." Leia reached into her pocket and pulled out a datapad. With a few taps of her fingers, she pulled up an image and passed it to Rey, Luke peering over her shoulder.

The image was of a small girl, about three years old, held by what looked to be a younger Miron, dressed in formal clothing. There was no mistaking it… the girl, buns and all, looked like how they'd all pictured a younger Rey to be.

Leia continued speaking. "They're a rich system, owning the entirety of their solar system as well as two nearby, for a total of twenty-six planets falling under Itamar domain, and over seventy moons. They're extremely resource-rich and self-sufficient, you can imagine. They follow a monarchical leadership, and have for millennia with very little trouble, oddly enough. They broke from the Republic before the Empire rose to power – though that didn't stop diplomacy, of course – and have never rejoined. Instead, they've chosen to remain independent of any conflict; or at least as neutral as one can be. Their position near the Unknown Regions has allowed them to remain apart from any conflict, really, which accounts for their growth."

She finally trailed off, realizing that there was only so much information that Rey would be able to process at this time. They stood around in silence for a few minutes as Rey chewed her bottom lip, thinking.

Turning to Luke, she asked, "What do you suggest? I believe him, and the information, and… and I've found my _family_ , Master." She didn't know what she was pleading with him for, but she couldn't stop herself. She realized that she did, truly, believe Miron. She was still completely overwhelmed, but for the first time in… well, ever since she could first remember… she felt pure, unadulterated _hope_.

"I understand the draw of family, Rey…" Luke began, looking at Leia before returning his gaze to his padawan. "Of course I do. Yes, Jedi are technically supposed to give up their families and attachments, but I would be awfully hypocritical if I forced you to do so. The choice… the choice is yours, Rey. You can go with him, even if it's just on a temporary basis to see what you'd like to do, then make your decision at a later time."

"What about you, Master? What about our training?" Rey asked.

Luke flicked his gaze towards the Itamarans and replied, "I have a feeling I wouldn't necessarily be welcomed there; not right now. Plus… I have some things I've been putting off doing for Leia and the Resistance. I can do those while you reunite with your family, and then we can see where we're at after a few months."

Rey nodded thoughtfully. "I'll still be sure to meditate and train as best I can, Master."

"I'd like you to take someone with you," Leia interjected.

Rey looked startled. "Do you think he wishes to leave now?"

Luke smiled softly at her. "Itamar is over three weeks away, even with the hyperlanes, and it seems they have just found the sole heir to the throne… so yes, I imagine they are eager to return home. I'm sure he wouldn't object to a few hours here, however. That is, if you plan to go? If you don't, we'll support and protect you. You know we will."

Rey was shocked. She hadn't even made that connection. She was… the heir? To such a vast system? She'd never had much to call possessions before, and now… now she had a planetary system at her fingertips?

 _No._ Family. She'd never thought that having a real _family_ would be a safer topic to dwell on, yet here she was, thinking on the topic rather than getting lost in an upwelling of confusing thoughts on… whatever _that_ was.

"Rey?" Leia queried gently.

"What?" Rey looked up, snapped out of her thoughts.

"Do you want to go with them, or stay here?" Leia asked. "Or if you need time to decide…"

"No," Rey interjected quickly. "No. I… I want to go. I… I feel like I've been waiting for this for a _long_ time."

Luke nodded. "I understand. Well… let's go tell the Lieutenant about your decision."

They stepped off of the stairs and moved towards Miron and the guards. As one, the six guards accompanying Miron dropped to one knee and bowed their helmeted heads. Rey was brought up short, looking at them, startled. She didn't know what to do, or how to handle the situation. Lacking anything better to do, she stuck her hand out towards her… uncle. Well, _that_ would take some getting used to.

Instead of gripping her hand in a handshake like she had intended him to do, Miron bowed low over her hand and placed a kiss to her knuckles.

Rey pulled her hand back in shock, and Miron slowly straightened, flashing her a grin.

"You better get used to it, Princess," he teased her lightly, familiarly.

She felt warmed at the smile and the genuine care in his voice. The fact that it was her _uncle_ doing so was probably the main reason why. It just seemed so _unbelievable_.

And… princess?

It seemed there would be more than one thing she'd have to get used to. At least there would be a three week journey to work through some of these things.

"I… can they please stand up?" Rey asked, growing increasingly uncomfortable.

The lieutenant made a small motion with his hand and the other six guards stood. Rey let out a sigh of relief. Leia took the opportunity to motion her group over, and Chewbacca and Poe greeted Rey warmly as they strode forward. She nodded at them before she continued, wanting to get this over and done with.

"I've decided to come with you, Miron… uncle… Lieutenant," she announced, voice quavering slightly.

"I had hoped you'd say that," he breathed, smiling happily.

Rey gestured towards her companions. "I would like to bring someone with me, however, since my Master has other things to see to, and I would like to see at least a slightly familiar face for a little while."

Before Rey could finish, Chewbacca stepped forward and growled that he would happily join her for a little while. Rey simply smiled at him and nodded her thanks and acquiescence. She wished that Finn could accompany her, but he was still in a coma back at the base, and Chewbacca would make a wonderful companion – one who could protect her and himself if it came to that.

Leia let out an abrupt whistle, and then yelled out towards her shuttle. "BB-2! Get out here!" Miron looked startled, as if he hadn't expected the woman he obviously viewed as a princess to be yelling rather gracelessly over the top of his head.

A dark green and white BB unit made its way down the ramp of Leia's shuttle, rolling towards them at full speed. It came to a full stop at Leia's feet and she crouched down in front of it. "Hey BB-2, you're going to go with Rey here," she pointed at Rey, "and make sure she's okay. Do whatever she asks of you, be a good companion, and transmit stuff our way once in a while. She'll want to talk to her friends sometimes. Sound good?"

BB-2 trilled at her in binary, accepting its mission happily. Rey grinned. She'd always loved droids. She'd never met this one, but it seemed to have nearly as much attitude as BB-8 did.

"Well, that's settled," Leia announced as she stood up. "Poe, think you can pilot the Falcon back?"

Chewbacca growled and Poe lifted his hands towards him in supplication, expressing without words that the wookiee shouldn't be blaming him.

"Well you can't really take it with you if you're to be keeping an eye on our Rey here," Leia grumped at Chewbacca. "We'll have someone – someone you _trust_ – fly it out to Itamar when we decide on a time and place to meet up. Remember it's technically _my_ ship," she added when he seemed about to disagree.

Miron let out a laugh, but quickly stifled it as the wookiee turned to glare at him. He blanked his face.

Rey spoke up again. "Could I have a few hours before we leave, please? I figure you'd like to get going as soon as possible, but I'd really like to say my goodbyes."

Miron looked at her for a moment, his face still blank, before he let an understanding, soft smile spread across his features. "Of course, my lady. I will tell the remainder of my ships to wait in orbit, and you have only to tell me when you are ready. I understand the desire completely, but I thank you for your understanding of my impatience as well. It's not every day that you…" His eyes took on a faraway look and he stopped, blinking a few times before shaking his head. "It's not every day that you meet your niece who is supposed to be dead, let alone the princess you were tasked with finding for the last fifteen years."

Rey smiled at him in return, not sure what to say in response to that. Instead, she settled for telling the man what she would be doing. "I'm going to catch up with my friend here, as well as with the General, and have some final words with my Master to prepare some lessons while we're apart. I'll… I'll be back in a few hours," she stated firmly, trying out an authoritative tone. Miron simply raised an eyebrow at her and smiled softly.

Obviously she'd have to practice that.

Yet he gave no protest and she chose then to nod and turn back to Poe, gripping his elbow as she towed him towards the stairs and up them to her favorite spot to meditate. Leia and Luke could be heard following shortly afterwards, bickering softly between themselves. Rey smiled at the sound, knowing it meant that they were at peace with one another.

"So, Poe… tell me everything about how Finn is recovering. I miss him."

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 **Note:** **The entire story is outlined, and written to chapter 10 already. This one will not be quite as introspective as Codega or Gradations, as I am trying to make it a bit of a shorter story.**

 **As far as continuing this story goes, I'm waiting until I get near to the end of reposting the fic to sit down and see what I want to write next, other than my new fic. So bear with me! This fic _will_ be finished, but it's just a matter of when, y'know?**

 **I am trying out a different style, and I hope you like it! I am still definitely going to make sure everything makes sense character-wise. There's nothing I hate more than characters being OOC, especially when I'm the one writing them! haha. :P**

 **Needless to say, this is going to be slightly odd. AU feeling, but still set post-TFA and as canon-compliant as I can make it.**

 **Special thanks to the folks who I had offer their opinions on this story. Muah!**

 **Comments are always loved and appreciated. xoxo**


	2. Chapter 2

The spaceship – which Rey had rather aptly dubbed the ' _space yacht_ ' – landed on what her uncle Miron explained was a private landing strip near the family home. He explained that they didn't wish to cause a fuss with the general population of the city, especially as not a single one of them had any inkling as to who was on board the Royal Guard's ships.

Every last one of them thought she was dead.

It was safer that way, Miron had explained. That way no one would pester the family with claims that they were the long-lost granddaughter of the King.

It was enough that they currently had to deal with distant relatives coming out of the woodwork, circling as the King became increasingly ill, with no heir in sight.

Well, that was all going to change.

Rey, Chewbacca, and BB-2 had kept mostly to themselves for the duration of the three week trip to Itamar, relaxing in an apartment suite with a shared sitting room and kitchen and – well, basically _anything_ they could need for the duration of the voyage.

Rey had spent countless hours listening as Chewbacca recounted tales of his, Leia, Luke, and Han's voyages over the years, though she could certainly tell that there were important pieces missing. Large pieces, in fact, in the shape of one Ben Solo.

Chewbacca didn't like to talk about him, and glossed over it quickly whenever it came up. Rey respected his wishes and battened down her curiosity.

Instead, she'd used BB-2's data files to learn as much about the child as she could. His file terminated abruptly at the age of fifteen, stating that the person in question was deceased. Nothing more.

But there was plenty on _Kylo Ren_ – material that the Resistance had gathered over the years, and much of which Rey already knew from her foray into the files back on D'Qar, and from speaking with Poe before she had left for training with Luke.

Luke hadn't been very forthcoming either, for that matter.

Rey had found herself dwelling on the subject of Ben Solo… of Kylo Ren… more than she ever had before. There was something about being near Chewbacca, about hearing all these stories, which had roused her curiosity.

Oddly enough, it set her mind more at ease to think of the man she had fought and left for dead, than to think of her dead parents – to finally have the knowledge for _sure_ that her parents were dead and gone; never to come back. But they… they had not done it intentionally.

This eased her mind to some extent, but she still desperately wished to fill her spare time with anything but dwelling on the dashing of her dreams – even if the dreams that _were_ being fulfilled were beyond her wildest expectations.

She had nothing but _spare time_ anyway, though her new companions did their best to balance her privacy with their _own_ curiosity – about _her_. They hadn't pushed, but Rey had enough social skills that she'd cobbled together over the years to recognize that she needed to get to know these new people in her life.

Over the course of the voyage, Rey had tried not to let her natural inclination to keep to herself hold sway over her. One by one she had called in the members of her guard – all of her own, personal guards were on this ship, though they had been accompanied by other cohorts from the greater Household Guard on their voyage to and from fetching Rey.

With the aid of Miron, she had come to learn at least a little bit about each of her guards, of which there were seven total. All seven wore the gold and silver armor that denoted their general status within the Household Guard. In addition to the armor, their purple cloaks were edged with a black and yellow stitching that denoted their status as Rey's personal guards. Miron gleefully expressed that they could remove the black stitching from their cloaks, now, since Rey was no longer… well, she was no longer presumed _dead_. They could resume their places within the Household Guard with honor once more – it seemed like once you were a personal guard, you were always a personal guard, no matter the life or death status of your protégé.

Three of the guards were women, all childless though one was married – whose names were Abarrane, Kaiyah, and Joka. There were also three men, all three widowed, though one had a grown son – their names were Zacharias, Aaron, and Makis.

Miron, it seemed, was the only one with both a spouse _and_ a child still living. Rey stared wide-eyed and astonished as her guards laughed along with her uncle and took turns telling stories about the vivacious girl-child of eight – Raonaid.

She had a _cousin_ as well.

Rey had barely recovered from that when the guards had launched into the story of how Raonaid – Naya, as she was affectionately called – had come to be. Or at least, Miron said, guffawing, how he had captured the fair maiden he called his wife. Tivona, it seemed, had been a hard one to convince to marry.

He had also explained, during a more private conversation, that he, his wife, nor their daughter stood in succession for the throne. Only direct descendants of the royal line qualified – and she was the _only_ one left. After that, there were convoluted succession charts that would have had to have been consulted.

Rey had needed days to recover from the spin her mind had fallen into.

There were so many new people… so many new _names_ to remember.

It seemed even _she_ had a different name. Her uncle had explained that her parents – Omet and Darrah, she repeated to herself time and again – had named her U'Rey. It meant ' _my light_ ' in their ancestral tongue, though Miron explained, with a glint of humor in his eye, that her mother had always thought the name rather… pretentious. She had simply called her child _Rey_ from birth.

Rey was overwhelmed with all of the information she was being given. Her life was expanding outwards at a rapid pace and it was all she could do to hang on for the ride at times, it seemed.

Over the voyage, Rey had learned much. Her uncle and other guards took turns doling out small amounts of information about the planet she was to call home – _hopefully_ , she reminded them off-handedly, trying to ignore the pinched looks that overtook their faces – and the greater planetary system that she would one day control in its entirety.

They had utter confidence in her abilities to learn the skills she would need quickly, and had already expressed to her that she was learning at a pace far beyond their wildest expectations. She was smart and intuitive, they told her. She would do very well, indeed, at ruling their system when the time came for her to take the throne.

Rey wasn't so sure.

She still hadn't even wrapped her mind around the fact that the throne would be hers in the _first_ place, let alone that she would do _well_ at ruling from its seat.

During the times she wasn't being instructed, Rey asked her uncle to spar with her. At first, he was completely surprised, though he quickly got past the shock after she reminded him – with a well-placed kick to the stomach – that she had been surviving on her own since she was a child, and had been a padawan to a powerful Jedi Master. Still was, in fact.

His trepidation wore away and soon she and he took great satisfaction in learning more of each other than simply intellectual knowledge. To connect with him in such a fashion meant that she could learn more about him than before – there were many things you could learn about a man by the way he fought; by the way he conducted himself.

She learned he was a good man.

Yet sometimes… sometimes it was just too much.

She had been lonely for much of her life, surviving by herself, then had lived for months with nary a soul but Master Luke around… and now she was surrounded by many, and on her way to a planetary system of billions of people – all of whom would _know_ and look to her for guidance in the future.

Chewbacca and BB-2 did their best to console her during these moments where all she wished to do was steal an escape pod and get some fresh air on a nearby planet – _any_ planet, at that. Perhaps to never leave again.

Rey still felt completely unprepared when she stepped off of the ramp of the yacht, though her mind was swimming with more knowledge of cities, protocols, family names, histories, and policies than she'd _ever_ thought she'd have cause to cram inside of her.

Yet she was prepared as she was ever going to be to meet her grandfather. He had been informed of her survival, thank the stars, and they would not have to deal with the emotional trauma that that revelation could have caused. It was going to be an emotional enough reunion as it were. Miron had attempted to explain her grandfather, King Abimelech, to her over the course of the three week journey, to varying degrees of success. Finally, he had laughed and simply told her that she would have to see for herself. He was… hard to quantify, Miron had said.

Rey had abandoned her Jedi robes at the insistence of her uncle. Though she had been loath to admit it, he was right in the fact that appearing before a King in anything less than the proper attire would be an affront – long-lost granddaughter or not.

Her hair was in its usual three knots, however, and she had insisted – nearly violently – that she be allowed to wear her lightsaber beneath the simple cream silk dress she had been given to wear. It would be an awful hassle to retrieve, but Rey felt much more secure with it on her person. Miron, for all his protests, _did_ understand, she was grateful to note.

The simple gown was covered by a yellow cloak in the same shade as the stitching on her guards' cloaks. Miron said that she technically should be wearing the purple but, like he had mentioned about the ship… no one knew that she was alive. Yellow was a much safer – though entirely appropriate – color.

Rey simply felt _overwhelmed_. She felt inundated.

The feeling only got worse as she was escorted through the halls of a vast stone palace – her family _home_ , apparently – Chewbacca to her left, Miron to her right, and BB-2 right at her heels with the rest of her guard fanned out behind her.

Halfway there, she could not contain it any longer. She grasped Chewbacca's arm and whispered up to him, "I need to _sit_." Her voice was almost pleading.

He settled her on a bench a few paces further down the hall, her guard surrounding her so that no one else could take notice of what was occurring – and to _whom_ it was occurring to. Rey took deep breaths, focusing her mind on meditation like Master Luke had taught her, spreading her mind outwards.

There were so _many souls_.

Rey had never felt so many people around her in her life. Even on D'Qar there had only been a few thousand. _Starkiller_ had held thousands more, though she was too busy – too _new_ at her powers – to feel their minds surrounding her.

But _here_ … here there were _millions._ She had never felt so many people in one place before. It was… it was overwhelming.

"How – how many people live in this city?" she choked out, finally getting control of her breathing; finally able to push aside the feeling of so many people surrounding her.

"Over twelve million within the city itself, my… my lady," her uncle responded softly, but confused. He reached out a hand as if to touch her – as if to reassure her – and she stood swiftly, wishing to avoid the contact.

She didn't know if she could handle the touch at the moment; didn't know if she could explain what was going on.

Rey walked on, shoving past her guards and resuming the pace and direction that they had been going in before their… break. She ignored all attempts by her uncle to open up the conversation again, fortifying her mental walls as best she could.

For all that her uncle had said they'd wanted to avoid _notice_ … well, Rey could have pointed out that this arrangement was _far_ from inconspicuous. They were being eyed by servants and nobles alike as they traversed the halls to the personal quarters of the King.

When Rey first laid eyes on her grandfather, it was all she could do not to cry.

Abimelech Ammiel, King of Itamar, was a man who certainly looked ill, as Miron had explained. His skin was spotted and loose with age, his frame thinned out by the rare cancer that was eating away at him from the inside. Even his well-tailored clothes could only hide so much.

There had been four guards stationed outside the doors to the apartment, and there were three inside. All wore the same armor as her own personal guard, though their purple cloaks were edged with a wide silver border rather than the delicate stitching on her own guards' cloaks.

Her uncle Miron and Joka, his second, were the only ones to accompany her inside the suite, the other five gesturing to Chewbacca to wait with them. Makis had let on early that he was fluent with Wookiee and Chewbacca did not mind – after a gesture from Rey – being pulled aside to converse with the man. BB-2, however… Rey had found out quickly that he did not like to leave her side, ever. The dark green and white unit rolled in right after her, to the chagrin of her uncle.

But the King… her _grandfather_ … just smiled. He _smiled_ in greeting, and it was enough to break Rey's heart all over again.

He held himself with poise and some distance, regal in his bearing even when faced with his granddaughter, who he had believed perished _years ago_ , but his smile was all that needed to be seen for her to know that she was welcome and _accepted_.

"U'Rey," he breathed. He was sitting on a straight-backed chair at what looked to be a dining table, and gestured for her to come towards him.

Rey's throat tightened as she shuffled towards him, trying to walk with the grace that her guards had started to teach her.

The elderly man grabbed her hand with his parchment-thin skin with more strength than she had expected. Rey simply stared down at him, willing herself to be strong.

"Sit, please," he commanded, leaving no room for refusal. He did not release her hand.

Rey sat in the chair next to him, angling it towards the King.

"There is no doubt. You are Darrah's daughter," her grandfather expressed happily. "You look just like her, in every way. Yes, yes, I know we had your genetics tested, but to me… the proof is in the eyes."

Rey squeezed said eyes shut briefly before opening them again to stare into the King's own blue eyes. "I have not yet seen a picture of my mother… or of my father," Rey whispered.

Abimelech's eyes flashed towards Miron and Rey could hear her uncle protest. "I wished for her to have something to share with you, my lord."

"Very well," he acceded with a dismissive flick of his wrist. He stood up slowly and made his way over to the far wall of his suite. There, on the wall, was a large, framed photograph of what Rey could easily see – but hardly comprehend – was her family.

Her mother.

Her father.

 _Her_.

It was an official royal family portrait and it looked as if Rey was barely two years old. But… Rey saw exactly what her grandfather meant when he'd said that she looked exactly like her mother. It was there in the hair, in the eyes, in the shape of her face and in her body type. Her father had dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes, much like his father did, but Rey had definitely taken after her mother.

The last remaining shred of doubt that Rey had been harboring fell away from her, and tears leaked from her eyes in a steady flow as she reached up, tentatively, towards the photograph.

"You have one in your own apartment suite, my dear girl, and can spend as much time as you like looking at it – and many other photographs that we will make available to you, as well," her grandfather said as he placed a hand on her shoulder. He turned her towards him and took her in her arms, embracing her for the first time since she had arrived.

Rey held herself stiffly at first, still not used to physical contact of this magnitude after so many years living on her own, but… slowly, she wrapped her own arms around the thin old man who was one of the few people on this world who were left who were related to her – but those few were more than she had _ever_ hoped to find.

She'd thought she'd be alone forever.

But this… it was as if she were coming _home_. She felt as if she _belonged_ , even though all that was happening was that she was being held. However, it was _who_ was holding her, and _whose_ portrait she was looking at, that made all the difference. Rey knew, in that moment, that something absolutely drastic would have to happen for her to ever want to leave this feeling of family and peace. It was more than she would _ever_ have received with Luke, with the Resistance… it felt natural.

Suddenly, her grandfather stiffened and pulled himself back from her. In his hands he held her lightsaber. He was staring down at it, and Rey couldn't quite discern what he was thinking or feeling.

He had closed himself off from her.

"Ah yes," he finally said. "Lieutenant Miron mentioned that you were a Jedi padawan." His voice held a hint of distaste, but when he looked up at her again and offered her back the hilt, his smile was in place once more. "We will ensure that you have adequate space and equipment to train with. We will fill your hours with many things, my dear granddaughter –" Rey beamed at him at this, her heart filling with warmth, "–including lessons, and visits, and audiences with your people… but we will make sure that you have time for what matters to you as well. Your happiness means much to me."

He continued to smile at her, and Rey held his gaze before he broke it. "Now, let your uncle show you to your apartments. I am tired and wish to rest, and you should as well. There is much we both must prepare for in these coming months."

Rey stepped back and bobbed a somewhat awkward, shallow curtsy. She was sure that she had gotten it completely wrong, but her grandfather was too gracious to point it out. BB-2 beeped up at her grandfather as she did so, and he smiled down at the droid in return, reaching down to extend his hand. BB-2 extended his internal robotic arm and gave the King a thumbs up with his fire-starter – a gesture he _must_ have learned from BB-8 back on D'Qar.

Rey groaned and began to apologize, but her grandfather cut her off. "There is no need. It is good to meet you as well, young droid." He smiled at BB-2 and Rey felt that she liked him all the better for it.

* * *

Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren, had only recently been picked up by the _Finalizer_. He had spent months completing his training beneath his Master, Supreme Leader Snoke. The first weeks had been difficult; the powerful man had treated his badly-wounded body no differently than if he had been hale and whole.

Every single ounce of energy had gone into keeping himself sane; into keeping himself together; into pulling himself back into the Darkness after the abysmal failure of killing his father. He'd thought it would make him stronger – had been _told_ that it would make him stronger – but it had only weakened him.

All that time and energy spent on wrapping the power of the void around him had consumed him.

It wasn't until he was on board the ship, having completed his training to his Master's satisfaction, where he had the chance to _breathe_ again.

It wasn't until then that he gave into the pull… into the allure of the beacon hidden deep in his mind.

Kylo Ren picked up the helmet of Darth Vader and stared into its charred remains as he sunk into himself, feeling peace draw around him – the peace of the Darkness. Peace he had fought hard for. The Sith may have taught that peace was a lie… but Kylo preferred to believe that only _lasting_ peace was a lie. He would settle for the temporary variety.

It was only within that Darkness that he was able to access the small, shining Light that he had first noticed in the medbay all those months ago, on his way to Snoke.

He had not allowed himself to even _think_ of the Light within him for all these months – not while he was being prodded and tested and _remade_ from all angles. He hadn't wished for the one little piece of Light inside of him to be taken – he didn't know _why_ , but he wanted it for himself. Perhaps, he told himself, it was so that he could take and shape and remake _her_ , as _he_ had been remade.

He felt nothing like himself anymore – not like he had been _before_ ; before _everything_ had changed. The process had been cruel and painful and he still wasn't sure _what_ he was now.

He was still figuring that out.

And he was still figuring out the small Light within him. He wasn't sure what to make of the _girl_ – of the girl whom he had so very much wished to teach… of the girl who had _bested_ him, scarred him, nearly maimed him, and left him for dead. He was fascinated by her, by her Light, by her… _passion_.

For passion she had.

His shoulder and face twinged in pain as they always did when he remembered her. Yet… he found himself licking his lips at the memory as well, his tongue swiping across his full lower lip before worrying it with his teeth.

Kylo Ren – First Knight, Master in his own right now – cradled the Light with gentle, mental hands, imagining his own hands holding the woman in question.

 _Rey._


	3. Chapter 3

Rey's mind was whirling. She'd barely had time to acclimatize herself to her new apartment suite – more space than she'd _ever_ dreamed of living in, with more _things_ than she'd ever seen, let alone owned, filling the nooks and crannies – before she'd fallen into a deep slumber. Next thing she knew, she was being woken by the startled gasp of someone who had just opened her bedroom door.

Rey had been asleep on the floor with one – almost uncomfortably luxurious – blanket beneath her body, and a loose sheet draped over her. She hadn't even bothered with the large bed, knowing that she would never be able to get used to the softness of its mattress. Well, at least not yet. She _had_ eyed it with a sort of awe that she was sure would have been described as _ravenous_ if anyone had been there to see her face. Maybe _someday_ , she had promised herself. She could at least _try_ it.

The gasp of the intruder had Rey leaping to her feet, naked as the day she'd been born, her hands held in front of her in a defensive position. Her eyes flicked over to BB-2, charging in the opposite corner of the room, wondering if he would come help her if she called. She doubted she would need it, but it was good to know what all of your options were.

"My lady," a short, plump woman said, her eyes averted as she curtsied and then rose. "I apologize for my intrusion. Please forgive me, but the tailors are expecting you in your sitting room. I was tasked with waking you."

Rey stood there, dumbfounded, until she processed what the woman was saying. She didn't care that she was standing there, naked, in front of a stranger – she'd always been comfortable in her own skin. She was more concerned with the confusion that the stranger's words were causing her. There were… who? "Tailors? What… who are tailors?" Rey asked, lowering her hands as she realized that there was no threat – not from this soft-looking, timid woman, at least.

It didn't take long for the woman to explain what a tailor was as she traversed the room to a closet and grabbed a set of underwear and a robe for Rey to wear. She explained she wouldn't need more.

Rey was going to get measured for clothes.

And apparently… more clothes than she'd ever dreamed of. Dresses, skirts, tunics, pants, shirts, underclothes, nightclothes, summer clothes, winter clothes, formal clothes, riding clothes, cloaks, jackets, scarves, accessories – even some training and exercise outfits. Half of the items the excited woman described to her in a hurried rush were things she'd never really even _heard_ of, let alone thought she'd _own_. She'd only ever had one style of clothing that she could call her own – and even then her clothes had been worn as long as possible, fixed as often as possible, before replacement. Rey felt vaguely sick at the thought of owning so many things – perhaps… perhaps there was a way she could refuse?

Three ladies surrounded her as soon as she'd exited her bedroom in the robe. All three had bowed to her, murmuring greetings to the princess, and staring wide-eyed at her without even attempting to hide their awe.

Rey was _utterly_ uncomfortable.

Unfortunately, they hadn't given her time to handle the initial discomfort before pushing her straight into another. They'd pulled her robe off of her after standing her on a pedestal in front of a mirror, and then proceeded to do the one thing Rey had _beaten_ people for in the past: they _touched_ her.

She _hated_ being touched.

She'd grown up alone, but it wasn't as if that had been the cause of her aversion… No. Rey had learned early on that when someone touched her, it was either to discipline her, or because they wanted something from her – especially as she'd grown older and had become a 'desert flower just right for the picking,' as one man had put it.

He'd been her first kill.

And no one had contested her – the desert's only rules were _might is right_. Rey had learned that very early on. To earn the right to touch Rey, one had to be a friend or, more recently, family – though even then, it needed to be on _her_ terms.

Instead, the touches of these strangers were simple and professional, and she sort of understood what they were here for – and that was all that had saved them from being assaulted as Rey quivered beneath the feeling of their fingers, measuring tapes, and cloth being dragged all over her flesh.

Rey watched, wide-eyed and overwhelmed as the women hurried around the room, writing measurements down and – "What are you _doing_?" Rey couldn't help but ask at one point, confused.

The woman in front of her looked up, startled, nearly dropping the two bolts of cloth she was holding. "Pardon, my lady?"

"The fabric. What are you doing with it?" Rey was actually curious at this point. She had been bored, but had then started attempting to discern what the tailors were doing at any given moment.

"Oh… I'm attempting to match fabrics together with each other, as well as with the color of your skin, eyes, and hair. If the right combination can be found, your beauty will be all the more striking!"

Rey blinked at that.

Beauty?

She'd never been called anything close to that before – surely the woman must just be flattering her to get on her good side… she'd seen plenty of people do that over the years at –

Suddenly, the doors to her sitting room swung open and in swept a tall, black-haired woman, trailed by a small red-headed girl who was practically bouncing on her feet.

"Out!" the woman commanded authoritatively towards the tailors, though not unkindly. "Surely you've poked and prodded at my niece long enough by now. I _must_ have time with her, and I am quite sure you can fill her wardrobe with the measurements you've taken already. Leave what you've already altered, but _out_!"

"Yes, Duchess!" One tailor squeaked and then they all dropped into curtsies, ones nearly as deep as the ones they'd given Rey upon greeting her, and whirled around the room collecting what they needed before swiftly departing.

Soon, Rey was left alone, standing in her underwear, before this regal-looking woman who was apparently her _aunt_. They looked each other up and down, and Rey refused to be embarrassed at her near state of complete undress. Nudity did not bother her in the least.

Suddenly, the woman – the _Duchess_ – cracked a smile and let out a short laugh. "Well met, Rey! I am so pleased to meet you… to meet you _again_ , rather. You were so tiny when last I saw you…"

Rey's mouth dropped open, but she swiftly shut it. She stepped off of the podium, moving towards a pile of clothing that the tailors had left so that she didn't quite have to face the woman who was her… _aunt_?... quite yet.

A small hand entered her field of vision, shoving a blue tunic and grey pants into her face. Rey blinked, looking down at the small child that had entered the room with her aunt. The girl – Raonaid, Rey remembered – offered her a huge, becoming smile, and said, "These ones! They're comfortable _and_ pretty. I don't think you like dresses. _I don't either_." The last was said in a – very loud – whisper, as if she were imparting some terrible secret. Raonaid looked down at her sapphire dress and tugged at it as she frowned.

Rey pulled the clothes from the child and then crouched down to her eye level and smiled. She couldn't help it – tales of the wild child that her uncle and the guards had told, and the girl's own force-of-nature personality exemplifying itself in person made Rey take an immediate liking to her cousin. "You're right – I don't either. But… well, by the looks of things, I guess I'll have to get used to them. I'm Rey," she finished with a greeting, sticking her hand out towards the child.

"I'm Raonaid – but you can call me Rany!" she replied exuberantly, grasping Rey's free hand with both of hers.

Rey stood after flashing Rany another smile. "Hang on a moment," she said as she pulled the clothes on over her body. When she had finally sorted herself out, she took a deep breath, pushed her hand through her loose, messy hair, and then turned back towards the older woman.

She did not seem bothered at all to have been kept waiting, and in fact had a pleased smile on her face; one of affection that was directed towards her daughter… but also included Rey, it seemed.

Rey bobbed a small curtsy. "My apologies, my lady, for being rude, I am just a little lost with everything."

The Duchess lifted a brow. "Don't apologize to me, my dear. Also, a little tip? You don't curtsy to anyone but your grandfather or foreign delegates of an equal rank to you. Anyone else, you dip your head towards, like so." She demonstrated the graceful head nod.

Rey twisted her lips. "I'm not really suited for this, my lady."

"I imagine not, dear!" the Duchess laughed throatily, tipping her head back. "I can't imagine this is easy for you. And please… call me Tivona. I _am_ your aunt by marriage, after all." She took a step towards Rey and held out her hands. "May I hug you? It's… everyone thought you were _dead_." The pain in her voice was palpable, noticeably different from the beauty of her laughter from moments before.

And simply because she'd _asked_ , Rey stepped into the woman's arms, letting the tall, elegant lady enfold her in comfort and love that even Rey could sense. It was a comfort that bared Rey's soul, and she couldn't help but feel like she could speak her fears to this woman. "I… I never thought that there was a family who would come back for me," Rey admitted quietly. "It's… honestly, everything about this place scares me, and it's… _you're_ … the only thing keeping me here right now."

Tivona spoke into Rey's hair, one of her hands soothing up and down Rey's spine. "It's a lot to take in. I'm not sure if I would even stay, if I were in your position, Rey. But… we are so pleased to have this chance to know you, and for you to have come here, and to have given us your trust enough that you are letting us care for you and teach you… thank you." She paused a moment, before continuing, "And if you ever feel it is too much, and decide this isn't the life for you… well, we'll find some way to make it work."

Rey shuddered slightly, and gripped the back of Tivona's dress tighter with her fists. It meant a lot to her to hear that her efforts were being acknowledged, that her fears were being accepted and even understood, and that she was welcomed _anyway_ , despite all of that. But what meant the most to her was the fact that her aunt would accept her decision if she wished to leave.

Rey felt a piece of tension release within her mind at that – she had been so worried that she would be held here against her will. To know that she wouldn't be… that she had an _ally_ … it meant the world to her.

After another moment of just holding Rey, Tivona let out a huff of laughter and changed the subject. "I'm sure my husband has been trying his best to teach you some of the art of the court and politics, but would you accept the offer of help from a master?"

"Who?" Rey asked, her eyes closed and her breaths puffing against her aunt's collarbone.

"Why me, of course."

Rey shook with laughter, her body finally, fully relaxing. "Yes, please," she answered gratefully.

"Hey! Is this your droid?" Rany shouted from Rey's bedroom. A shrill trill and series of beeps was swiftly followed by a shrieking giggle.

Tivona sighed as she pulled away from Rey. "Maker save me from my unruly child."

Yet there was true affection in her voice, Rey noticed. Perhaps there would be room in this woman's heart for one more unruly girl. Perhaps she could be accepted for who she was, after all.

* * *

Rey relaxed against Chewbacca's side, his large arm wrapped around her and pulling her against him as they sat on a couch in her sitting room. She'd been doing a lot more touching than she'd been used to in the week since her arrival, but yet there was something comforting about relaxing against her friend. He was someone who didn't expect anything from her.

She'd had so many things filling her week that her mind was a whirl, but this morning she had all to herself, to do with as she pleased. She'd chosen to spend it with her friend. She had seen him off and on, but had not truly had the time to just sit and converse with him.

She'd told him all about her time with her newfound family, and the struggles that she had felt throughout it all. She had been learning many new things – some of which were absolutely _foreign_ to her – but also she had simply been getting to know those around her.

"Remarkably, they aren't as much of a stickler for protocol as I thought they'd be," Rey admitted. "There are a few basic courtesies I've picked up on quickly that they insisted I should know, but other than that they all seem to be really understanding of who and what I am, and where I came from." Rey was really quite pleased at that. She'd been so worried that she'd have to intrinsically change who she was to be accepted by her family. But so far, they seemed to be making room in their lives for her, rather than making her fit into _their_ lives in a pre-arranged fashion.

Chewbacca tugged her a little closer. _'It's hard not to accept you, Rey, but I am glad that they do. If they didn't, they would be fools.'_

Rey smiled up at him, thanking him without words. "I think the only thing that's _really_ made me uncomfortable so far was grandfather's reaction to my Force-sensitivity. But… I asked Miron and he told me that sometimes people are just not that… happy, I guess?... with the fact that some people can influence others with this magic-like energy force. I… I think I can understand that. He's been so remarkably wonderful other than that, though. I'm sure if I give it time, he can learn to trust that part of me as well, right?"

Chewbacca looked down at her and she could sense he was struggling with something. She gave him the time he needed, letting him choose when to speak. Finally, he did. ' _Han was much like that, especially in the early years. He grew to accept and understand it, even if part of him was never truly comfortable with the Force.'_

Rey looked up at Chewbacca but let her gaze go a little cross-eyed as she pondered his statement. As always, she was saddened when thinking of the death of Han Solo at the hands of his son. And yet… suddenly, she felt something click inside of her as her mind made a mental connection it never had before. "Is… I'm sorry if this is a sensitive topic, but… is that part of the reason that Ben became… that he became who he is today? That he felt, perhaps, his father didn't accept all of him?"

Chewbacca stood up suddenly, taking a step away from her but going no further. His shoulders were hunched as he wrestled with the personal question Rey had asked. She knew she'd overstepped her bounds completely – _terribly –_ and she was about to apologize profusely, when he replied.

' _I think that was part of it. But… Han Solo loved his son deeply. He would have done anything for him. He would have died for him.'_ He paused, but Rey sensed that there was more. His shoulders slumped as he spoke his next words. _'I think… I think that's what he was trying to do, there, in the end. Tried to save his son with his last breath.'_

With that, Chewbacca left her rooms as quickly as he could.

Rey lifted her fingers to her mouth as she struggled to hold in tears – tears she didn't even know she could cry for a boy she'd never known.

* * *

Rey didn't see Chewbacca for two whole days after that; not until the morning of her official introduction to her people. He'd given her a large hug, telling her that everything was okay between them, and wished her luck for the day before calling for BB-2 to follow him and leave Rey alone for her big event.

Rey was scared.

She didn't think she'd ever been more scared in her life.

Turning to her grandfather, who stood right in front of the balcony doors that they were to step through within minutes – she could hear and _feel_ the crowd roaring outside – she took his frail hands in hers and looked up into his features, her own expression guileless and desperate.

"I don't think I can do this!" she exclaimed. "I don't think I _want_ to do this," she clarified.

The King turned his hands over in her grasp and gripped her hands right back before pulling her into a hug. Rey relaxed slightly, though not near enough for her tastes. There were so many people out there…

"Why's that, U'Rey?" he asked gently. He sounded like he honestly cared about her answer, and it was enough for Rey to relax a little more. She pulled back just enough so that she could tilt her head back and meet his eyes again.

"There are so many people… I'm just so used to being alone," Rey whispered. "But… that's not entirely it. If… once I step out there, once I declare myself – or rather, you declare me – found and alive, officially, it ties me to these people." She scrunched up her face, closing her eyes briefly before opening them again. "I might not know a lot about the way the world works, grandfather, but once I am officially _theirs_ , I become beholden to them. You have been teaching me that a ruler exists for their people, and not the other way around."

She shuddered in his arms, and he simply looked at her fondly, giving her time to express herself and not rushing her to keep them on schedule. "I've barely existed for _myself_ sometimes, grandfather. Sometimes I still don't. I don't know if I can exist for _billions_ of people, though. I can't even wrap my head around it. I just… once I'm officially _theirs_ ," she lowered her voice even further for her next admission, "It makes it that much harder to leave if I can't do this."

The elderly man gripped her by her shoulders and held her out at arms' length. "Do you wish to leave?" he asked seriously, but not judgmentally.

"No!" she quickly responded, her eyes growing wide. Then: "Yes… sometimes. Sometimes it's just _too much_ ," she admitted. "I'm sorry."

Abimelech gripped her chin and turned her sad eyes to meet his. She was surprised at the understanding she found in them. "Don't be sorry. I am pleased you can be honest with me – and with yourself," he told her. "If you feel you truly cannot do this or if, at any point in the future, you wish to leave… I will be saddened, but I cannot keep you here if you do not wish to stay."

"But… I _believe_ in you," he stated firmly, smiling at her confidently. "You are stronger than you know – and you know that you are strong indeed –" he smirked, "– and I have faith that you will do your best in everything that you do. That is all we ask of you. Not perfection – just your best."

It was his conviction in her and – yet again – her family's acceptance that she wouldn't be everything that they imagined a _princess_ to be, which allowed her to follow her to nod at him and then follow her grandfather through the balcony doors.

The roar of the crowd was still too _loud_ and _terrifying_ , but… there was love in it as well.

Also… there was the sound of _home_.

* * *

Kylo Ren tossed his mask off, not caring where it landed, and then looked around the carnage he had wrought on his living room. His breathing was coming in great, heaving gasps, though as he knelt and thumbed off his lightsaber, he was slowly able to reach inside of himself and regain _some_ measure of control.

The destruction of his room had certainly helped with that as well.

He had thought he'd avoided his fate when he'd destroyed Luke Skywalker's Jedi Academy and left to join the First Order. He had thought he'd been completely free from an obligation thrust upon him since childhood when news of the little Itamaran princess' disappearance – and likely _death_ – had reached his ears.

Well, apparently not.

The Itamarans had contacted them just yesterday with news that their princess had been found – safe, sound, and decidedly _alive_ – and that they fully expected a contract signed and legitimized in front of countless delegates when he had been barely more than a _child_ to be honored.

Kylo Ren had almost completely forgotten about the cradle betrothal until he had so rudely been reminded of it no more than an hour ago.

His hand sifted through the wreckage of his table, pulling at the pieces of singed metal with his gloved hands as he crouched over it.

His mother had considered it quite the savvy political maneuver to have 'caught' the rich Itamaran system in a future alliance – one that would only commence when the children in question were old enough to consummate the marriage, though. But it was a marriage to the last member of the dying – though still influential – royal Alderaan lineage, and the Itamaran King had snatched at the prestige and power of the alliance.

It was one of the reasons he'd grown to _hate_ his family; making choices like that for him, when all that his mother, father, and uncle had touted while growing up was how the Empire had _taken_ free will from the people. That was the reason they had fought so hard, they had said.

Kylo snorted, laughing slightly at the irony of it all.

It would no longer be the Resistance gaining from the alliance… it would be the First Order. Nowhere on the contract did it state that the Resistance or Leia or anyone specific would benefit – all it had said was that the people of _Prince Ben Organa-Solo_ and the Itamaran _Princess U'Rey Ammiel_ would be the ones allied upon marriage.

That had certainly left some wiggle room to suit the First Order's purposes, at least.

Well, it was no matter now. Fate had caught up to him.

Supreme Leader Snoke _himself_ had been the one to inform him that he approved of the path his negotiator was following, before his image had blipped off of his screen and he'd been left with the head arbitrator in question.

He'd managed to explain the circumstances – ' _Somehow he knew who you were, Master Ren,'_ – and had even managed to leave the room with not a scratch on his body before Kylo Ren had flown into a rage.

Yet Snoke had ordered it, and he must obey. Kylo Ren knew intellectually that the Itamarans would be powerful allies, though he didn't have to like the role that he had been forced into; a duty he'd once thought to escape was once more catching up to him and pulling him into its maw.

He also knew, intellectually, that he would be able to participate the bare minimum in the marriage and have it still be considered legitimate. He wouldn't have to give up his life or his ambitions. He could still strive to bring order to the galaxy – in fact, gaining an ally like Itamar in a decidedly _pleasant_ fashion, rather than subjugation, would contribute greatly towards the accomplishment of said goal.

He also wouldn't have to give up his quest to find _the girl_ and make her his own. He could even keep her as a part of his life – as Apprentice, lover, _whatever_ – without a single protest. He was sure the princess would wish to see as little as possible of him, as well. Maybe they could even come to some mutually beneficial arrangement – he'd _far_ prefer to have her aware of the truth of who she was married to.

Kylo frowned. If she _wished_ to be married, still. Kylo Ren may have been called a monster – he _was_ one, by all counts – but he had no desire to force a woman into a marriage she did not wish to participate in. If she back out, he would accede to her wishes – it wasn't like he wanted to be married, truly, either – but if she did wish to… well, there would be benefits to the arrangement, and actually not a whole lots of negatives.

Kylo suddenly smirked to himself, his mind veering in another direction. He was happy for the first time in hours as he mused on another piece of knowledge that had been given to him by the harried arbitrator.

The princess' name was U'Rey – it wouldn't be an embarrassment if he called out the wrong name in the act of fulfilling his conjugal duties. Perhaps she would even prefer to be called by another name; one that was less of a mouthful…

Yes… there would _definitely_ be some benefits to this arrangement, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

"What do you mean, he's betrothed to Rany?" Rey hissed out of the side of her mouth at her aunt Tivona. She couldn't keep a smile on her face, but she at least kept her voice down so that the man who had just passed her – Rany's _betrothed_ – couldn't hear her. "He has to be at least… triple her age!"

Tivona cast a cool glance her way, one elegant eyebrow arched at her niece. She held her hand up to halt the next group of nobles who were heading in their direction, and then gripped Rey's elbow as she turned her to face in her direction. Chewbacca, on Rey's other side, glanced down and then stepped between her and her aunt and the rest of the guests filling the state room. It was Rey's first official event with the nobility of her realm, barely two weeks after being introduced to the population at large. It was just enough time that she didn't feel _completely_ ridiculous in the yellow gown she wore, her hair loose beneath a thin silver circlet.

"Oh, don't give me that look. He's only twice her age, which is a damned blessing if you ask me. Rany's eight. He's sixteen." Rey cast a glance at the retreating man and realized that he was, indeed, rather younger than he'd first appeared.

"But…" Rey was at a loss to explain what exactly was going through her mind. On Jakku, sometimes parents married their children off to other villagers, but this was… this was a _civilized_ world. "When will the marriage take place?" was all she could choke out. She couldn't imagine Rany being married, let alone any time _soon_.

Obviously Tivona could read the expressions on her face – or she was just _really_ not covering up very well – because she let out a little huff of laughter. "Goodness, Rey, we're not _barbarians_. She won't be married until she's at least seventeen, which is our age of consent here. The marriage is arranged, but rights have been granted over the centuries to women – and men – to back out of these sorts of deals if they so wish. Sometimes there are repercussions such as a trade deal falling through, but the fact of the matter is that there is no _forcing_ going on here. _That_ aspect is heavily enforced and honored in our culture. My own marriage to your uncle was arranged, as were the marriages of basically every single member of your family, on both sides. A few have backed out over the years, but most follow the family's wishes."

Rey could only stare at Tivona as her mind whirled around all this new information. She was more than a little disturbed at the prospect of a betrothal between an eight year-old and a sixteen year-old, but she had to admit to herself that it was only the association of marriage to their ages which was throwing her off. And that it was arranged at _all_ , in the first place, actually. Yes, she'd grown up around the practice herself, but that didn't mean she condoned it.

She could feel a grimace struggling to find its way across her features, and she smoothed her expression back into one of calmness as soon as she realized it. Well… perhaps the matter wasn't so bad after all, considering that both sides still had to consent to the marriage once they reached the appropriate age, and that their decisions would be respected by either side. Rey herself had been told time and again by her own family that if she wished to back out of regaining her heritage and claiming her position as the princess of Itamar, that they would respect her wishes.

It wasn't so hard to believe that they would support Rany if she wished to back out, with the examples Rey had seen from her family over the last few weeks.

She let out a sigh of relief, though she still felt slightly uneasy at the whole conversation. It was one more thing for her to get used to, living in an entirely different culture, but she was sure it wouldn't be the last. She offered the Countess a shaky smile, which the black-haired woman returned gracefully and much more steadily. "There's not a betrothal for me, is there?" she asked, only half joking.

Tivona pursed her lips in thought. "Not that I know of. I don't believe so. But even if there were, or if your grandfather arranges one, you'd still have the option to refuse. It's a little trickier as a Crown Princess, but that sort of thing would be taken into account before negotiating even began."

This time Rey caught her features before they even started to slide into a grimace, but it was a near thing. She was getting better at this whole 'princess' thing, even if at times she wondered what sort of drug she must have been slipped, and if she were still back on Ahch-To – or even worse, back on Jakku.

She barely repressed the urge to place her forehead in her palm and clench her eyes shut. Rey, married? She'd never really given that more than a passing thought, and even then she'd always imagined it would be with someone she had grown to care deeply for – not an arranged marriage of all things.

Rey's mind quickly called up images of Finn's smiling face, and the friendship and care that she felt for the man filled her heart – it might not have been love, but Rey could easily imagine it growing into more… if it weren't for the drastic one-eighty that her life had become.

She frowned as all of a sudden an image of Kylo Ren powered through her mind, dominating every last nook and cranny within her thoughts. It was the first time she'd seen his face, after having woken up in the interrogation room. Standing there, in the state room, Rey was only slightly aware of the movements of the people around her as she was filled with the emotions she'd felt during that first meeting: some fear, yes, but a great deal of courage and curiosity, and then _pleasant_ surprise and… attraction. He had been nothing like she expected.

Rey was suddenly aware of something barreling towards her within the Force; a light surrounded by a dark shroud, projecting… was that curiosity and _desire_? What an odd –

Rey threw up her mental walls quickly, realizing almost too late that the thing was _deliberately_ looking for her, and that it had sped up as soon as she'd focused in on it. She closed her eyes, concentrating on her breathing techniques, and ignored Tivona trying to get her attention.

Long minutes passed, and then finally Rey edged her way back out into the Force. There was no sign of that… _dark light_ , she supposed she should call it. She gave a soft sigh and then opened her eyes, shoving all thoughts of the Force – and of Kylo Ren – out of her mind.

She tapped Chewbacca on the arm and he stepped aside, and Rey was faced with a large group of young men and women – about her age – dressed in their finest to meet the Crown Princess.

"My apologies, I had some Jedi business to attend to," she greeted them. "Now where were we?"

It wasn't entirely a lie, but Rey was deliberately choosing to address the issue of her being a Jedi – even one in training – just so she could test a theory of hers.

She watched carefully, taking note of those who winced or offered other visual clues at the mention of the term 'Jedi' – it would be useful information for the future.

Rey knew that some only saw a scavenger from Jakku, and still others a Jedi, 'pretending' to be their Crown Princess. Oddly enough, Rey preferred those who assumed so little of her. It allowed for more room to surprise them as they tried to take advantage of her seeming lack of intelligence or worldly knowledge.

She may not know much yet, but she had common sense, intellect, and allies to back her up as she went.

* * *

The next morning found Rey sitting on the ledge just outside of her window. She'd been sitting there for over an hour, having watched the sun rise. She had always been a rather early riser – most of the time, at least – and she had taken to sitting on the ledge to observe the city going through its daily rituals.

It was a fascinating sight – and, oddly enough, a calming one – to behold. Even though Rey had been used to solitude for countless years, she'd always been intrigued by people-watching. Though preferably from a distance, she thought wryly. From her ledge, she could engage in the activity of watching countless people interact without being unnerved by the thousands and thousands of people who were surrounding her.

She was alone… but also not.

It was actually a rather _nice_ balance.

Not like last night, she thought as she grimaced. All those people surrounding her when she was already thoroughly uncomfortable in her own skin; in the finery that still felt like a disguise hiding the wild child she still felt she was – still _wished_ she could be.

It hadn't been as awful as she'd imagined it would be, though. She'd been able to hold her own decently well in the myriad of short conversations she'd engaged in as she'd been introduced to the nobility of Itamar, who had travelled from all across the series of systems that swore fealty to her grandfather… and now to her.

Rey shook her head, still feeling as though everything were completely surreal about the situation. She _knew_ this all wasn't a dream, but at times it just felt so completely… _ridiculous_.

Like something out of a fairy tale, really – something that shouldn't be happening to _her_ of all people.

She fully expected, at some point, for someone to show up and tell her everything had been a rather terrible, hurtful joke. That none of this was meant for her. That a mistake had been made, and she would be expected to return to her old life, and give everything up. To give her family up.

At times, she wanted to go back to the way everything was – even to the way everything was, going as far back as living on Jakku before the whole mess with the Resistance, and the First Order, and _Starkiller_ … Sometimes she just wanted the simplicity back. She didn't want any of the dresses, or the finery, or the responsibilities – it wasn't _her_ , and she was uncomfortable with it all.

But now that she had grown to know her family, and been accepted by them… well, she thought that it might just be worth all the struggling she would have to do to fit herself into her new life.

At least they didn't insist on completely reining her in – that had been a pleasant surprise. Her family had so far allowed her to be her own person, smiling contentedly and lovingly as she at times completely defied convention.

Like last night, her grandfather had only laughed along with her when she'd devolved into a series of _very_ unladylike snorts and giggles as a baron had tripped and fallen into a sprawl right in front of her. She'd leaned down and hauled the man up herself, all while laughing, and the nobles surrounding her had looked at her as if she'd shown up wearing a sack for potatoes. It was as if she'd committed the greatest of social errors… but her grandfather had complimented her on her courtesy after he'd tamed his own laughter. His support had meant the world to her – and really, who cared if a bunch of uptight nobles thought she was uncouth? They could deal with it, as long as she continued to represent them fairly and well.

It was amazing, and scary, to be responsible for so _many_ people. She'd only ever had to care for herself before, and here she was learning all these new skills and filling her mind with information so that she could help _others_.

She found that she _liked_ that – helping others.

Rey smiled fondly as she noticed a large group of children run up excitedly towards a woman wearing clerical robes. The bright blue robes were easily recognizable, one of the first things that had caught her eye when she'd started people-watching, and she had asked Miron what the people wearing them did. He had told her they belonged to the Tzedakah Order, a religious branch that specialized in charitable works. Even though their society had moved past having any official religion and many chose _not_ to believe in anything like a higher power, the Order continued to thrive on donations alone based solely on the fact that they were well-loved by the people for helping where no one else would.

Suddenly struck by an idea that had her beaming from ear to ear, Rey scrambled back inside through her window and grabbed her commlink from the table where she'd left it. "Uncle Miron?"

"Yes?" came his clear voice after a moment.

"Can you help me arrange to assist with the Tzedakah Order sometime soon? Hopefully this week." Rey was filled to brimming with the desire to _help_. She wanted to go out among these people who were _hers_ and care for them where she could, in whatever way she could. It wasn't like her family didn't have the credits for it. Her uncle had mentioned some charities that they donated to, but had made no mention of anyone actually doing any ground work among the people themselves.

Rey wanted to make a difference. She would go out and help, herself.

It was as if all of Itamar was an extension of her family, and she wanted to give back to them for having accepted her so graciously with open arms and _love_.

"Why… never mind. I actually think I can answer my own question."

Rey arched a brow at the commlink even though he couldn't see it. "Thank you, Uncle. I… really appreciate it. And… please, if possible, can we go with as few guards as possible?" Rey glowered at the fact that she even had to _ask_. Yet another ridiculous thing for her to get used to in this life, but one she wanted to mitigate as much of as possible if she were going to go out among the people and not _intimidate_ them.

He was quiet a moment, likely mulling over the possible risks. "I'll see what I can do," he finally replied. "Do you need anything else, or can I get back to being bossed around by my little girl?"

Rey laughed, wished him luck, and shut her commlink down.

She looked down and finally acknowledged BB-2, who had come racing in as soon as she'd stepped foot inside of her apartment, and had rolled around her non-stop until she finally set down the commlink and crouched down beside the droid.

"What is it, BB-2?" she asked fondly.

He trilled and beeped at her, announcing three new videos that had been sent together from the Resistance. He had already decrypted them and was asking if she'd like to watch them now, or later.

"Now, please!" she responded, enthusiastically clapping her hands together at the prospect of hearing from her friends. She rose up quickly and shivered slightly at the chill air making its way through the room and over her bare legs and arms. She hadn't really noticed it earlier as she'd been so lost inside her thoughts.

Walking briskly towards the couch, she snuggled under a blanket as she got comfortable on the seat. "Okay!" she announced. "Let's hear them."

Leia's message was a generic catching-up. Though she knew that Leia couldn't say much about particulars going on in the fight against the First Order, she appreciated being kept in the loop even the small amount she was being allowed to. Leia then trailed off into a rather funny anecdote about an adventure she and Luke had gotten into in their earlier years after the Empire had fallen. Rey laughed out loud as Luke popped into view behind his sister and rolled his eyes nearly the entire time, while acting out particularly scenes in a rather ridiculous fashion. Leia never once turned around, but at the end of her message, right before she hit end, she drawled, "If my idiot brother is finished mocking me, I believe he wants to say a few words. I'll be sure to smack him if he gets too boring – or too mystical. You can be sure of that." Then she'd winked and ended the recording.

Leia had kept her promise. She'd literally smacked Luke three times in the next video message, though he _had_ held her off when he'd told her he had to tell Rey about some texts he needed her to find and read for her studies. Rey had paused the recording and asked BB-2 to make note of the texts so that she could track them down later, and then continued the message. Luke had wrapped it up by giving her some vague retellings of missions he'd been completing for the Resistance, but Rey could tell that they were truly taking their toll on him. He seemed much happier for being around his sister more, but there were more wrinkles on his weathered face than ever before and occasionally his eyes wandered off into the distance and a pinched look took over his face before he shook it off and returned his attention fully to the message. Luke had wrapped up the message with the affirmation of his intent to join her sometime soon to continue her training – if the _General_ would allow it, he'd stated half-jokingly.

Rey made a mental note to reassure her Master that they would work something out, but to also enquire with her uncle if there were any protocols she needed to follow for having her Jedi Master stay with them for a while.

The next message was from Poe, and the first words out of his mouth had her head spinning gleefully for the rest of the day, eagerly planning her response.

"Rey! Finn's awake!" he'd practically shouted. "I managed to convince Luke and Leia not to let onto it so that I could tell you myself, but he's awake and alive and everything is looking good for him! He's still sleeping a ton, I mean, or else he'd have sent a message himself, but I'll be sure to get one out of him and send it to you as soon as he can manage." His grin had been met with an equally large one from Rey. She listened to the rest of the message with half an ear, her mind already wandering happily.

* * *

He'd felt her thinking about him last night.

She'd been like an open book to Kylo Ren in that moment and he had immediately moved towards her, zeroing in on her across the odd non-distance of the Force. Her light had called to him and he'd been able to see a brief flash of his own visage before she'd shut herself down completely.

He hadn't been able to connect with her in time, but he _had_ caught something that nearly overshadowed his resentment of that fact.

She was _attracted_ to him, as well as curious.

Kylo only wished he had enough time to track her down in person before they were to arrive in Itamar. He sighed, keeping thoughts of Rey on the edge of his mind as he mulled on everything else that vied for his attention.

They were due to arrive at Itamar in ten days. At their current speed, they would barely make it. They'd been nearly clear across the other side of the galaxy when the messages had first started to arrive. The only thing that had stopped the negotiations from stalling completely from the lag in communication had been the arrival of an Itamaran diplomat authorized to speak with full authority for the crown. Final negotiations would take place on Itamar, of course, but there had been _much_ to discuss.

The First Order couldn't ignore a powerful system like Itamar, even if they'd wanted to. They were too big to ignore, and it was much better to simply go along with the treaty like they had wished. It would cost too many resources in an effort to subdue the enraged Itamarans if they were to deny the betrothal agreement – if the First Order even wished to do that.

Which they did not.

It played perfectly into their need for credits, resources, and allies. The First Order would never turn down an agreement such as the one that was nearly being handed to them on a silver platter.

Kylo huffed as he looked at the traveling cases pushed against the side of his room. _Someone_ had ordered him to get fit for a new set of clothing.

He was pretty sure he knew exactly who it had been, though he couldn't quite drum up anger at the redheaded thorn in his side since he hadn't been forced to appear for any fittings at the tailors.

Hux had been complaining about Kylo's penchant for black _everything_ for years now, though there had never been an opportunity for Kylo to really wear anything other than black. It had always been the shade that looked the best on him, though the fact that it hid blood so easily was the ultimate reason for it gracing his wardrobe.

These new clothes were for a wide variety of social events – he'd snarled at that, directly into the arbitrator's face – as well as some everyday ensembles.

He admitted that his usual robes wouldn't do very well for those sorts of things, and had at least been pleasantly surprised when he'd looked through the clothes that had been made for him. They hadn't been _too_ awful, and most were in blacks, greys, reds, and deep blues. He could accept them, if he must.

They would stay on Itamar in a wardrobe just for his things, even as he spent his time off-world and back on the _Finalizer_. He had missions to complete, Knights to oversee… and a little scavenger girl to find.

Kylo turned towards his grandfather's helmet where it rested on its pedestal, mulling over whether to keep it here, or transport it back and forth with him as he went.

Pulling his glove off of his left hand, he touched the well-worn surface of the helmet and let a small frown twist on his lips.

He had meditated deeply the last few days, asking the Force if he was doing the right thing; if he would be able to accomplish his goal of balance by following his orders to marry the newly-found princess of Itamar.

Each time, the Force had sent him an unequivocal ' _yes,_ ' followed by the most peaceful of sensations he had _ever_ felt come over him.

It was… unnerving.

* * *

 **Note: I had a rough weekend with pain and other major difficulties, so I wanted to have a little happiness and normalcy in my life by posting five updates today, since at least I can do it from the comfort of my bed! I know it's a lot and probably not the most productive way to get new readers and the like, but it makes me feel better, and that's what counts, eh?**

 **The new chapters today are for Behind Closed Doors, Codega, this (Mitzvah), Delicious Ambiguity, and even starting to post the beginning of my (new) old fic, Gradations - the first longfic I ever started, waaaaaaaay back when!**

 **Hope you don't mind. Much love to everyone. *hugs tightly and sends love to everyone*. Special love to my husband, my daddy and to Perry Downing for helping me over the last four days. Love you. So very much.**


	5. Chapter 5

Kylo Ren snarled at General Hux as he shoved himself back and away from the man's vibroblade. They were sparring in the bowels of the _Finalizer_ , away from prying eyes as they usually did when they decided to train together. They were both down to their pants and boots, sweat slicking their bare chests as they pushed against each other in a battle of wills. Hux trusted Kylo not to use the Force as an advantage. He should—they'd been doing this for nearly a decade now, out of sight of prying eyes.

Everyone else thought that they were enemies, but in reality they were more like brothers. They simply chose to keep that aspect of their relationship a secret. They were both private men, and it was no one's business.

"How does it feel to have your bachelor life slowly drawing to a close?" Hux taunted as he parried another thrust from Kylo's force pike.

"Fuck you," Kylo cursed and then closed in for another hit. "Negotiations aren't done yet. Nothing's official until everything's signed." He ducked the high thrust from Hux's blade and felt as a lock of his hair was nicked. He glowered at the man as he saw the smirk pulling itself across the redhead's features.

"Yeah, yeah," Hux murmured. "So have you seen any pictures of this princess you're supposed to marry?" He jumped backwards to avoid a slash from the pike.

"No," Kylo stated shortly. "Everything's locked up tight out of Itamar these days. They keep basically everything in-system, choosing not to share anything with the outside world, though they do let the outside world trickle in. I can respect that," he said. He valued his privacy _highly_.

"Well I was going to suggest I could get an operative in if you wanted to know what you were getting yourself into beyond vague promises of the woman being 'pretty'," Hux teased. He circled around Kylo as the other man pivoted to keep the man in sight.

"No," Kylo said again. "We arrive tomorrow, in any case. And I will follow the orders the Supreme Leader has given me," he said, as if by rote, his voice going slightly blank.

Hux raised an eyebrow at him as he tested Kylo's defenses. "Oh, really now? Since when did you follow his orders without question, Kylo?"

Kylo growled and swept out low with his pike, forcing Hux to jump to avoid being tripped. "Since my honor is tied up in adhering to the betrothal contract," he hissed at his friend. Suddenly, he pressed the attack, lashing out in a flurry with his force pike and forcing Hux to grit his teeth and defend with all of his concentration. Before he knew it, however, Hux was on his back on the ground, his vibroblade buried in the durasteel wall beside the door panel.

"What about that scavenger girl?" Hux couldn't help but to let out one last taunt.

Kylo roared and swung the force pike at Hux, slamming it into the ground inches from the juncture of his thighs. Hux never once flinched, and that simply made Kylo even angrier.

"Careful now, Kylo," Hux said as he arched an eyebrow up at the dark man. "My mother will hang you if you ruin her chance at grandchildren. And then she'll just take _your_ children as her own. You know she would."

Kylo groaned, but couldn't stop a grin from spreading across his features. "I'll miss you, you little shit," he admitted as he helped Hux to his feet with one hand.

"I'd be insulted if you didn't," Hux replied teasingly. "But I'll be sure we see each other often enough. It's not like you have to _stay_ there. And, of course, Snoke will expect you back on a regular basis."

Kylo hummed his agreement and then fell silent as he listened to arguably his _only_ friend prattle on and on as they toweled off and got dressed once more.

He hadn't felt _her_ light in days now, but he wasn't too worried. He would deal with this _marriage_ and then be quickly on his way as soon as propriety would allow it—and even sooner if he could get away with it.

* * *

"What _is_ that?" Rey asked incredulously as she stared at the large animal in front of her. She was wearing a split-skirted dress—a riding habit, they'd called it—of soft orange, and now Rey could see why the skirts were split.

She was expected to _ride_ whatever monstrous animal this was before her. She'd been led out to the stables—which she'd only viewed from a distance before this—with the intent of learning how to ride.

"It's a horse, your highness," the stable master informed her patiently, though Rey could detect a certain amount of incredulity in his own voice. "I've been tasked with giving you riding lessons so that you can join the rest of the court on traditional hunts and processions."

Rey had only ever _heard_ of horses. They were rare, but not so rare that there hadn't been the occasional traveler who would tell tales which included the animal. She had never seen an image of one, though, and the sight before her was _nowhere_ near what she had imagined for so many years within the privacy of her own mind.

"You want _me_ to ride _that_?" Rey's eyes were wide as she glanced between the stable master and her uncle—who was rather unsuccessfully trying to hide his laughter. She glared at him, and then spread her hands out towards the stable master as she struggled not to bolt away. "No, no sir, I do not think that today will be a good time for that. I have... business elsewhere occurring soon, and I do not wish to be late."

She hated lying, especially as the man seemed so _kind_ , but there was _no way_ that she was getting on that tall, powerful animal. She much preferred to walk, if it came down to it. There was something about relying on her own two feet and nothing more—or a trusty speeder bike—that was ingrained in her over the years. Another sentient being? No, thank you!

As her uncle fell into place slightly behind her and to her right, he chuckled at her.

Rey shot him a wry grin even as she asked a rhetorical, "What?" She knew very well what he was laughing at— _her_.

"Nothing; nothing at all, princess," he chuckled.

They walked for a few minutes in companionable silence. She and her uncle had become close in the past few weeks, learning to read and trust each other better than Rey could have imagined. They were more than just bodyguard and the one who was to be guarded. They had become more than family as well. They were well on their way to becoming friends. She and he had sparred multiple times over the last weeks and she had earned his respect, as he had earned hers. Not only respect was gained, however. She had also learned many new skills from him and her other guards, refining her previous abilities and learning entirely new methods of fighting with weapons that were familiar to her, and some that were not.

They'd even become a lot more comfortable around her when she practiced with her lightsaber. At first they had been leery, but had slowly come to accept that it was simply a part of _her_. She supposed much of it came from thoughts that she would manipulate them with the Force, but as they came to know her, that fear subsided.

The rest of her days had been filled with other types of lessons, often in the company of her aunt, and sometimes her cousin. Manners, protocol, etiquette, history, politics... those were always the most important of the things she had to learn, Tivona had insisted, though she was careful to not overwhelm Rey.

Tivona had certainly become a natural at noticing when Rey was about to panic from being cooped up indoors, sending Rey off to train with her uncle or suggesting gently that the younger woman could benefit from some alone time.

Rey gratefully listened to her on those occasions, which had helped to stave off disaster, truly.

Casting a genuine smile at Miron, she asked excitedly, "Is everything ready for the trip into the city tomorrow morning, Uncle?"

Rey was eager to get away from the castle grounds, for all that she was truly enjoying her time with her family. The crowds were not something that she was necessarily looking forward to, but the chance to do some _good_ with her time and the money at her fingertips... _that_ was what she wanted to do with her life right now. She wanted to help these people who had embraced her with open arms into their lives and into their system—they had provided her with a feeling of homecoming that went beyond simply being accepted by her family.

She wanted to give back.

Her uncle returned her smile and replied, "Yes, princess. Myself and Aaron will be accompanying you."

"I don't want to hide who I am when we go out, alright?" Rey narrowed her eyes at her uncle and he looked away briefly before he finally scoffed. Rey smirked, having caught him at his game. "The people need to know the family cares, do they not? That is what _your_ duchess told me."

Miron raised his eyebrow but acceded to Rey's demand. "I suppose there is minimal risk for the gain that will be had, as long as you are armed as well. Now..." he smirked, "Are you ready for your dancing lessons?"

Rey protested the entirety of the way back to her rooms.

* * *

Right before Rey was about to turn in for the night, BB-2 came flying into her bedroom, his dark green and white form barely coming to a halt before he would have slammed into Rey's feet. She was exhausted from her day of moving muscles she wasn't even aware she _had_ , and wished desperately to crawl into the little nest of blankets and pillows she'd made beneath her window.

"What is it, BB-2?" she asked the frantically beeping droid. It was times like these that he reminded her the most of BB-8, with his excited demeanor and barely-contained excitement. She smiled softly at the recollection before returning her attention back to BB-2 abruptly.

"Finn? He sent me a message? He's _awake_?" Rey's soft smile bloomed into a wide grin. "Let's see it, BB-2!"

She was so unbelievably relieved that Finn was okay—his injuries suffered had been severe and, even though Dr. Kalonia had said he would be okay, no one had known when he would wake. Rey had worried that he would _never_ wake, and to hear that he was awake, and had sent her a message... a hole in her heart that she didn't know she had was filled. He had been her first true _friend_ —the person who had helped her get off of the despairing pit that was Jakku—and she had thought she'd never see him again. That he would have _died_ as a result of protecting her.

Rey flopped down onto her nest, wearing nothing but her underwear and an oversized tunic she'd scrounged from a laundry cart in the halls. BB-2 rolled towards where Rey was gesturing him to, and then began to play the message for her.

"Rey!" Finn's voice was excited but hoarse, evidence of his many months spent in a coma. "I wake up finally only to learn that you're on the other side of the galaxy, no longer with Luke? _That_ was a shocker, I'll tell you. But... hey. Don't feel bad that you abandoned me." Rey snorted as he flashed her that grin she remembered so well.

"I'm really happy for you," he continued. "You've found your family! Or, well, they found you. But still! That's amazing. I know we didn't talk much before all of this happened, but I remember you briefly mentioning that desire to find your family... of being an orphan. I know how that feels..." he trailed off sadly, and Rey was struck with frustration at the fact that she couldn't give him a hug. "But hey. Enough about you! I'm doing well. I think. The doctors said I'll need some therapy for the next few months and I can't travel, but otherwise I'm just fine. I hear it takes a while to travel out your way so it's not like you can easily visit right now, and you're like... a _princess_ or something!" His eyes widened dramatically. "Am I going to have to bow to you or something, or do I get special privileges as your best friend?" he teased. "But holy _kriff_ , Rey! That's seriously amazing and I wouldn't believe it except I heard it straight from the General herself!"

Finn began to cough and he winced after a few seconds. Rey's eyes widened in panic at the sound—it was dry and sounded like it was unbelievably painful. "Doctor said the cough was normal after so long without talking, but I'm being glared at by her right now so I should probably get finished with this," he said sadly. "You'll send me a message back, right?" He suddenly sounded hesitant, as if he wasn't sure that Rey would return the favor; that she wouldn't want to be friends with him anymore after everything that had changed.

Never mind everything that they had been through together.

"Well, I hope you're doing well. Say hi to Chewie for me!" His voice had once again returned to normal, she was happy to hear, and she smiled fondly at his image before the holo winked out.

"Oh Finn..." she murmured to herself. "Don't be silly. Of course I'll send you a message back!"

Rey got up and rooted in her wardrobe for a pair of loose pants. Pulling them over her hips and tying them beneath her loose tunic, she ordered BB-2 to replay the message a few times. As she listened to it play over and over, she tried to figure out exactly what she'd say to Finn in her reply. She hummed happily to herself the entire time.

* * *

Rey set her empty basket down on the ground as she crouched in front of a child younger than Rany, and handed the child the last care package that had been in the basket. Vouchers for doctor's visits, dried stew rations and nutritional bars, educational material, bacta patches and other ointments, and some adjustable flats that could be used as shoes comprised the care packages that she was handing out to the children and young mothers gathered around her.

Her uncle passed her a loaf of bread wrapped in a cloth and she happily handed it over to the mother hovering just behind her young son. She brushed her hands off on her beige skirts as she stood up again.

Her uncle and her other guard, Aaron, passed out the remainder of the loaves alongside Rey. The people kept a respectful distance, as they had all day, but every so often a child would come running forward to touch Rey's skirts or hand. She always smiled at them welcomingly, though at first she'd flinched at the press of bodies near to her.

Yet over the course of the day, her absolute joy at her works had overtaken everything else she'd been feeling, until she could no longer focus on the burn of her muscles or the tiredness in her mind—there was only contentment.

What she was doing _mattered_. She was giving back and making the world a better place; helping those who reminded her so _much_ of the life she'd been living before she'd been pulled gracelessly off of Jakku and into a new life. If she could prevent even _one single person_ from living a life like she'd been living... it would be well worth anything that it cost Rey.

Rey picked up her empty basket, realizing that the sun was beginning to set and they would have to depart soon if they were to make it back to the castle grounds before dusk.

She stumbled verbally through her exit, not quite knowing how to remove herself from a crowd that was focused so intently on her and her _alone_. She blushed and some in the crowd chuckled at her, but it was a warm sort of chuckle... one where they seemed to be laughing with her, not _at_ her.

Warmth pervaded her body, a happy glow plastering itself over her features as she, Miron, and Aaron made their way back through the streets on foot. They made their way slowly, stopping every so often to chat with a shop owner or with a child who would run curiously up to Rey and her two guards—she certainly stood out, and Rey had come to realize that _everyone_ in the city knew her face.

She wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

But the day had been a good one, and so she pushed that thought aside as silly and inconsequential.

The sun was just above the horizon when they made their way through the gates of the castle grounds, and Rey turned in the direction of the quartermaster so that she could return her and her guards' baskets.

Yet she was interrupted mid-turn by the roar of a spaceship flying low overhead, the shadow passing over her and her companions. It wasn't rare for a ship to fly in so low, she had learned... but to do it so close to the castle it had to mean that the occupants were of great importance.

She glanced up, and then turned back to her uncle.

Suddenly, she whirled back around, performing a double-take.

It was an _Upsilon_ -class space shuttle, black and sleek with its wings pointed upwards as it prepared to land.

Rey's jaw dropped and she stopped breathing, her heart pounding desperately in her chest, as if it would beat itself straight out of her body.

 _It couldn't be..._

Praying despairingly towards any deity who would listen, filled with utter _dread_ , Rey slowly lifted her eyes to the sky, hoping against hope that she was _wrong_.

But she wasn't.

There was a star destroyer orbiting above Itamar, holding what seemed to be geosynchronous orbit above this very city.

Rey was filled with fear; horrified at the sight above her. The First Order had come. They were here to take from her the only home she had.

She had to warn her grandfather.


	6. Chapter 6

Rey picked up her skirts, glad that she had shunned the petticoats that were the current style among the other nobility—she cared not one _whit_ about fashion, simultaneously giving her seamstresses the hardest and easiest job they'd ever had in dressing one of the nobility. She was easy to please when they kept it simple, they learned, at least.

Running like the wind, her heart in her throat and fear pumping through her veins, she tore through the castle in the least graceful manner she'd ever accomplished since arriving on Itamar. Her hand reached into the pouch of the belt at the small of her back and she pulled her lightsaber hilt into her hand, though she did not yet ignite it.

Her guards easily kept pace with her, but she refused to look at them or talk to them, or even to take the time to explain _why_ she was so insistent on getting back to her grandfather immediately.

Her focus was on _getting_ to her grandfather's study and warning him.

The _First Order_ was in orbit. Around _her_ planet.

She needed to warn her grandfather; needed to protect her people; needed to—

Rey froze as soon as she burst into the study, not having taken any notice of the extra people who had been milling around outside of the doors as she'd barged right past them before they'd gotten a chance to respond to her sudden presence.

All she could do was stare at the back of a _very_ recognizable head of hair, and a _very_ familiar set of dark, flowing robes.

" _You_!" she shouted, igniting her lightsaber and settling into a two-handed fighting stance she'd picked up from her uncle—skirts be damned. She could cut them off if she needed to. "Get away from the King!" Her uncle Miron and her other guard Aaron were right on her heels, though they stopped a few paces behind her and started to edge their swords from their sheaths.

Kylo Ren—for that was _exactly_ who it was—whirled around. "You!" he snarled right back at her, tossing his mask to the floor and igniting his own lightsaber in the same, swift motion. His eyes flashed with recognition, anger pulling at the thin red scar that bisected his face—a scar _she_ had given him, she thought with a brief flash of satisfaction.

Four officers of the First Order rushed in behind her, towards their Commander, and brandished vibroblades as soon as the Knight had ignited his weapon, turning to face her as well, though they lingered just out of their reach, giving Kylo Ren enough space to swing his lethal, crackling weapon.

Blue and red light cast shadows across the room and played tricks with Rey's eyes as she glared at the man who had become a threat to her in such a short amount of time. A year ago she'd never heard of him, and now…

"What are _you_ doing here?" Rey grit out, lunging towards him with a testing blow.

He parried her quickly, the ease of his movements making Rey entirely _too_ angry with him.

She reached down, about to sear her skirts from her lower legs, as he drew his saber back in the prelude to an overhanded strike.

" _Enough_!" roared her grandfather's voice.

Rey dropped to one knee instinctively, amazed even as she knelt that she had so quickly listened to the command in the King's voice. She had become so used to obeying him over the weeks she'd been here, that it was a difficult habit to fight against. Her hand opened and her lightsaber hilt, quickly deactivated, rolled across the floor and away from her.

She kept her hand stretched out in its direction, though subtly, in the event that she may need to call it quickly back to her again.

She should have turned her face towards the ground as tradition dictated, but she was only partially able to do so—her eyes refused to leave Kylo Ren, staring at him through her lashes as he stood over her, his body quivering with the strain of holding himself back, body awash in the red glow of his weapon.

He stared down at her, his eyes catching her gaze.

Rey was startled to realize that there was a degree of control and… _respect?_... in his expression. The control could be easily understood—though not particularly expected after their last encounter barely half a year ago—as there had to be some restraint to his being for him to have attained his position in life. Perhaps there was more to him than her brief glimpse months ago had led her to believe of him. He was still… there was still something so _wrong_ about him, but she admitted to herself, then and there, that she barely knew the man other than what she could glean from data files and—unfortunately—biased opinions.

But the respect in his eyes? Was that for her? No… it had to be for her grandfather, the King.

But… why did he respect the King? Were they not here to conquer Itamar? To demand they pledge fealty or _die_ as they refused?

Kylo Ren flicked his eyes towards where her grandfather stood, and then powered down his lightsaber, turned, and dropped to one knee beside Rey. He inclined his head once towards the floor, and then lifted his eyes again.

"My apologies, your highness. It was not my intention to—"

"Silence," Abimelech commanded, voice calm and controlled, without betraying a single emotion, and Rey was amazed at how quickly Kylo Ren shut his mouth in response—and at how he did it without an ounce of anger making its way onto his face. "Rise, both of you," he continued finally, after staring at them in silence for moments longer.

Rey and Kylo Ren refused to look at each other as they rose. Rey curtsied—she was a lot smoother at the action than she'd been nearly two months ago—and Kylo Ren bowed once more before they both straightened finally. Rey called her lightsaber to her and noticed as Kylo Ren stiffened at the motion and deliberate show of the Force, yet he said and did nothing as she tucked it back into the pouch it had come from.

Her grandfather glowered slightly at her display of power—she wasn't quite sure if it was the reminder of her Force powers or if he knew she was doing it to annoy the dark-haired man beside her—before addressing them both. He deliberately ignored the fact that they both obviously knew each other, falling back on forms of etiquette for a first meeting that Rey recognized from her studies. "First Knight, might I present to you Crown Princess U'Rey… my granddaughter."

Rey's head and neck had twisted just enough towards him that she caught a delightful view of Kylo Ren's entire body stiffening. His shoulders hunched up briefly towards his ears and Rey caught sight of his hands clenching and unclenching. Her eyes were drawn towards his face—which was slowly, inexorably, turning towards Rey—and she took utter delight in having gotten one up on the man. His reaction was priceless and if Rey weren't so angry she would have laughed until she cried. Rey settled instead for a small smug expression, pleased to have caught her one-time enemy so off-guard. She was absolutely thrilled that she could cause the man to lose control of his body language like this, after everything he'd done to her...

She deliberately shoved aside everything she'd learned about him in the months since, refusing to humanize him any further.

The King gave Kylo Ren no time to gather his thoughts any further, though Rey noticed that the dark man was obviously struggling with the desire to find words that would encompass exactly what he was feeling. If she were reading this correctly… she had just become untouchable to him. His eyes twitched back and forth between her and the King, and his jaw clenched and unclenched. He looked as if he were trying to discern every last answer simply by staring at the both of them.

Within his eyes, Rey could still see the shock that had consumed them from the moment her identity had been revealed to him. He hadn't expected to see _her_ here, let alone as the Crown Princess of the Itamaran system.

Rey's feeling of victory and dominance was short-lived, however. "Princess… might I introduce you to Kylo Ren, acting envoy for the First Order."

Rey froze. _Envoy_? she thought. Well, that was a fancy word to call a conqueror...

Her grandfather cleared his throat and Rey was suddenly aware that her mind had drifted. He narrowed his eyes at her. His gaze flicked to her hands clutched before her and she knew _exactly_ what she was supposed to do—but she did _not_ want to do it.

Grudgingly, Rey turned towards Kylo Ren and lifted her hand. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye for nearly one beat too many before it would be considered _extremely_ rude—not just merely rude, as it currently was—not to turn towards her and take her hand.

Yet he hesitated a moment before gripping her hand in his, his eyes dropping as he tilted his face down to look at the gloves covering his digits. From beneath the fallen curtain of his hair, Kylo Ren slowly lifted his eyes to hers through his eyelashes as he carefully removed the gloves from his hands. Once he was done, he tucked them into his belt, and _finally_ reached out to grip Rey's hand in his.

By then, Rey's breathing had quickened in anticipation, though her mind was screaming in shock at her reaction.

His bare hand was warm and dry against hers and Rey felt as if she had been shocked. Yet… she could tell it had not been the Force. Her eyes widened as he followed the complete protocol for greeting her, rather than just the bare minimum. Bowing over her hand, he drew it to his lips as he straightened. He briefly flashed his eyes downwards in the proper manner, but did not keep them there. Instead, he met hers as he pressed his lips to the knuckles of her hand, his soft lips caressing her skin longer than was appropriate.

Rey's heart stopped and her eyes widened.

He was looking at her as if he wished to _devour_ her.

Yes… there was still anger there… but there was so much _more_ than that, as well. This was… this was the way that her uncle looked at his wife; the way the stable boy looked at the maid from the kitchens; the way she'd always imagined her father had looked at her mother. He looked like he wished to defeat her in an entirely different way, and Rey was…

Rey found she liked it very much.

It thrilled her in ways that she hadn't… well, in ways she hadn't felt since _Starkiller_ , odd as that might sound. She had been drawn to him then, when he hadn't been trying—something about the dark man was oddly compelling and alluring—but now?

When he was _trying_ to… to _seduce_ her?

Wrenching her hand from his grip in a way that barely concealed the abruptness of the action, she clenched hands into fists behind her back, one rubbing the other where his lips had touched them; so graceful, so sensual… Rey felt a flush of absolute mortification—and _desire_ —rising across her chest and up her neck, and she was immensely grateful for the dim lighting of the room that hid most of the redness of her skin from everyone else in the room.

"May I be excused, your highness?" Rey requested, keeping her tone respectful but still with the tone of command that she had learned to adopt.

The King eyed her suspiciously for a moment before nodding, acquiescing to her demand. "You may go. The First Knight and I have other business to attend to in any case."

Curtsying once to her grandfather, she whirled around and left the room.

She did not once look back at Kylo Ren.

But she felt _something_ stir against her mind through the Force as she strode through the halls; curiosity... admiration... _desire_.

And it wasn't coming from her.

* * *

Once inside her apartments, Rey shoved her finger into her uncle's chest, covered as it was in his armor. "What _exactly_ is going on around here?" Rey demanded angrily.

Miron stared at her, and then reached up with his hand to grip her finger and pull it gently away. "That, my dear niece, is not for me to explain. You must wait for your grandfather to call for you—and he will, you can be sure of that."

Rey glared at him. "Fine," she bit out. "But you will spar with me until then, and _he_ can wait if he calls before I am dressed properly again, unless he wants to see me drenched in sweat and wearing my training clothes." Rey stalked off towards her bedroom.

Her uncle simply inclined his head and waited for her to return.

* * *

It was not until late that night, long after sparring, and long after a late supper, that her grandfather called her to him. Her uncle accompanied her, standing just inside the doorway and watching the two of them intently. There was no one else; no sign of the First Order in the room or in the halls.

Yet their ship still remained in orbit.

The King obviously knew that she would have questions, but held up his hand and asked for her silence—at least for her to listen to him as he explained, first, what Itamar's relationship was with the First Order.

… And they _certainly_ had a relationship.

Rey had become much better at simply listening over the past couple of months, especially knowing that she was always given the chance to voice her opinion at the end—and that it would be respected. That knowledge helped her hold her tongue in this case, as she definitely had _plenty_ she wished to say.

"There are things we do, as sovereigns, for the good of our people," he began, his voice strong and sure even though he was quivering from his illness as he sat back in his desk's plush chair.

"You deserve answers, and are a very smart woman. One day you will rule this system and I cannot demand blind obedience from you with the choices that I make. To provide you with those answers, I will tell you some more of the political history of our people—history that has been glossed over for you in your studies since you have arrived. There are many nuances to the tale. All of which you must know before we get to the exact purpose of the First Order's visit here at present."

At her grandfather's gesture, and feeling herself relax slightly at the way he was speaking with her, Rey took a seat on the couch a few yards away from him, settling her green skirts around her legs so that she could listen to him in comfort—at least, _physical_ comfort. The topic at hand was anything but comfortable, itself.

"You have been taught of the age of the Empire, and the Rebellion that your Leia Organa—" he let a fond smile play at his lips, and Rey was reminded that he and Leia had met decades ago, "—and Luke Skywalker helped to create that led to its downfall. Itamar, in the time before the Empire, during the time of my father, was a part of the Republic, which we have not had you cover yet in your lessons. The Republic… It had its problems. There was rampant corruption on many levels of the government, and many systems were at the mercy of others, while still other systems—and the Jedi Order—stood by and watched.

"Itamar tried its best to assist, but our distance from most systems made this nearly impossible. When the Separatists banded together, Itamar removed itself from the Republic as well—but not to join the Separatists. My father felt that Itamar had proven itself capable of standing on its own, and that it would attempt to do so while the rest of the galaxy fought itself into pieces. We had our own people to mind; to care for.

"The Jedi fell, the Republic fell, and the Empire rose. It was not something that came as a surprise to me or to my father. They were powerful, much like the First Order is now, and they also had a vision that Itamar could understand—bringing order to the galaxy. Again, much like the First Order.

"The Empire did what the Republic could not, as questionable as their methods may have been in some cases. They brought order from chaos—at least for a while," he added wryly.

"Itamar was left mostly alone. We did not involve ourselves with the war, or with any part of the running of the Empire. We benefited greatly from being here, on the far reaches of the galaxy. We benefited from having a large army and navy at our disposal, and as you know we were— _are_ —resource-rich enough to support ourselves. We prospered. On paper, we had an agreement to not interfere with the Empire, for a small sum of a rare mineral very few systems could provide. They wanted us on their good side—but the truth was mostly that they didn't want to bother with us. They took the easy route, and we allowed it.

"They let us protect our allies, and they left us alone. It worked. By the time the Empire collapsed, and the New Republic came knocking, we had no interest in joining them. We had prospered for too long under our own rule to bow to the whims of petty dignitaries squabbling over mining rights, trampling on the backs of those who depended on them."

Abimelech reached for a glass of water on his desk, his whole body quivering with stress and sleep-deprivation. He looked to Miron, still standing beside the door, after he drained the glass. "Miron, my boy, will you continue? You know the rest quite well."

"Yes, my lord," her uncle replied as he strode forward. He took the couch cushion beside Rey at her permissive nod, turning to face her. Her grandfather let out a relieved sigh and settled back to listen to Miron continue the tale.

"I'm going to go back a bit," Miron started, "As I'd like to show you what life under the Republic was like, at times."

He reached into his tunic's pocket and pulled out a datapad, one with a holovid lens on it. After pressing a few buttons, videos and images started to appear in front of Rey; the three-dimensional view made what she saw that much more horrifying.

"Not all of these images are from our system, though some are, from decades ago, under Republic rule…" her uncle explained quietly.

Cities bombarded from orbit, starving children, blockades of entire planets by Republic member-state navies, pits filled with hundreds of dead men, women, and children…

Her uncle replayed one particular holovid and explained what was occurring. "This was our Senate representative at the time… he was protesting a blockade of one of Itamar's planets by a member of the Trade Federation. Itamar refused to hand over mineral rights to something they wished to gain basically for free." Rey watched, wide-eyed, as the man was drowned out by countless others, his pleas falling on deaf ears.

"This is what happened before we could break the siege," he said as he pressed another button. An aerial feed of a city appeared, and all Rey could see were sick, starving—or already dead—citizens lying in the filthy streets of a once-beautiful city.

Rey felt sick to her stomach, but refused to look away. To do so would dishonor those who had suffered and died. "But… that was all the Republic's doing. This is… things are different now, are they not?"

Miron looked at her with kind eyes, shutting down the datapad but holding it on his knees rather than putting it back in his pocket. "We've been watching from afar, but the New Republic is not any better. The First Order came out of the dregs of the Empire, and we have resurrected much the same deal with them as we maintained with the Empire in the past. We are obviously—as you might have guessed—in the process of negotiating an expanded deal with them. I only know the bare minimum. Your grandfather and his advisor have been the main ones negotiating the deal.

"The alliance we belong to is looking for peace and stability to the galaxy. We are willing to contribute more if that's what it takes. War… war is sometimes necessary, Rey. But we are not warmongers. We prefer to keep to ourselves. Anything further that we might contribute to the First Order would be more monetary aid—yes, to their military, but also to humanitarian programs, at our _and_ their insistence—as well as the production of ships in our renowned shipyards."

His eyes hardened. "We don't plan to contribute troops, or to operate our own ships within their wars. But we will do all that is necessary to protect _our_ people from the chaos of the galaxy. Do you understand that, Rey?"

Rey opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to take in everything that she had been told. She recognized that there were sometimes things you had to do to protect your people, but to align yourself with mass murderers?

"What about the destruction of the Hosnian system?" Rey shot back, tilting her chin up defiantly.

"What about _Starkiller_ , Princess?" he rebutted quickly, just as defiantly.

Rey was brought up short at that. "What about it?" she asked warily.

"The way I see it, both the First Order and the New Republic, allied with the Resistance—with whom you were personally involved with at the time—saw to the destruction of enemy bases. It was a needless waste of life on _both_ sides, if you ask me. Civilians— _yes_ , there were civilians on _Starkiller_ —on both sides were killed for the advancement of causes that some had barely any inkling about. This is why we choose to stay out of the conflict. _This_ is why we wish for order in the galaxy.

"And we believe that the First Order is the best for the job," he finished, leaning back into the couch with a sigh. "And the best to leave us as alone as we can be in the galaxy," he added.

Rey had never felt more like a scolded child in her life. She had never thought of the destruction of _Starkiller_ in such a fashion. She hadn't ever stopped to consider all of the people that had died when _Starkiller_ had imploded.

She felt nausea suddenly well up within her, and her body felt like it was overheating and ice cold all at the same time. She felt sweat break out all across her body, though a violent shiver wracked her form as well. She gulped a few times, hoping to prevent herself from losing what little food was in her stomach.

She had helped kill _civilians_ —the very act she'd despised the First Order for.

Yes, the Resistance had been preventing an attack from occurring, but if they had wanted to, she was sure that they could have found a way to take over the base, rather than destroying it. There were plenty of options that they—which had included _her,_ for she had played a large role in said events—could have explored instead. Many people were dead who didn't necessarily have to be… and _she_ had physically lain some of the bombs that had been responsible for their deaths.

Clearly… clearly there was more to this war than the one side she had been privy to as part of the Resistance.

War was a lot greyer, and less black and white, than she had ever imagined it to be.

And… she could understand the desire to protect those who relied on her to provide safety and security—not to mention food, water, medicine, shelter, clothing… She had seen her people—had fallen in _love_ with the people who were _hers_ as much as she was _theirs_. She knew she would do anything to protect them, now.

Something clicked in her. She understood.

Maybe not everything—but enough.

Rey stood, and the two men stood with her out of respect.

"I… I need some time to process this, but I _do_ understand the desire to protect out people. I _do_ understand that not everything is black and white in war—or with anything, really. I understand that we will be treating with the First Order, and I will do my best to be respectful. But… I have a history with Kylo Ren; with the First Knight. I will try to work with him, but I don't have to _like_ him, right? And soon he'll be gone, and I'll never have to see him again."

Her grandfather and uncle traded guarded looks, and Rey was about to open her mouth to demand what exactly passed between them when her grandfather gestured towards the door.

"Thank you, U'Rey, for listening. You will have your time to process what we have told you, but our negotiations with the First Order will commence early tomorrow and should proceed quickly. If you wish to sit in, you are welcome to, but you will not speak. Whatever is decided, you will abide by."

Rey stared a beat at her grandfather—he was the King, the patriarch of her family, and as much as she might not like it, Rey knew and understood hierarchies in life. Finally, she nodded, accepting what he was saying, and then curtsied, leaving the study with her uncle in tow.

* * *

 **Note: Because I am in pain and want happiness, you get a surprise update, right after the previous one! Also, there is beautiful art of Rey and Kylo's first meeting, commissioned by my wonderful friend thedarkside-and-thelight on tumblr, which I will reblog with the tag 'Mitzvah' on my tumblr which is 'juuls'. Art by the lovely panda-cappuccino! *heart***

 **Since I haven't really plugged my previous fics as a whole since I got hacked - since returning from that - I will do so now!**

 **I'd start a war for you** \- Reylo baby fic, with flashbacks and spy!Kylo  
 **If only we could change fate** \- Finnreylo soulmate - VERY dark.  
 **Delicious Ambiguity** \- Reylo Force-baby fic. Complete.  
 **Codega** \- Reylux epic length saga exploring the grey in-between of the Force and war itself. Rey willingly goes to the First Order after losing faith in Leia and Luke.  
 **Shadowed** \- oneshot, post-war, Rey wants kids but Kylo is scared.  
 **Behind Closed Doors** \- Star Wars drabble/ficlet collection.  
 **Captive Soul** \- Reylux soulmate  
 **Mesmerizing** \- Reylux 6 years later  
 **Be my guide** \- Reylux ficlet  
 **Gradations** \- Reylo, Kylo gets cast out of the First Order  
 **Paths** \- oneshot for Rogue One - Mon Mothma and Krennic

 **Aaaaaaaand an upcoming dark!Rey x Hux (Reyux) short fic. So excited for that one!**

 **Just click on my username link, and they're all there! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Note: Okay. This is going to be a long author's note, I'm sorry. But I think it's important to address this.**

 **I know we all figured this out in the comments, but I wanted to take a moment to reiterate something here:**

 **These characters don't represent perfect ideals. Or completely imperfect/broken beings either. There is nuance to every person, every situation, every story, every... everything. You know?**

 **There is also this thing called 'unreliable narrator' in which the character whose point of view we're in might have a different, imperfect view of the story at hand. Of what they are witnessing, experiencing, feeling... even their view on the past. And their experiences in the past coloring how they view the present or future. For example, last chapter the characters described their past. This is THEIR version of the past - it doesn't mean it is an omnipotent, omniscient, whatever, view of the event(s), seen from afar and able to judge with perfect neutrality what happened. I am a graduate student in history - this NEVER happens, okay?**

 **And another thing! You, as the readers, don't necessarily know where I am going with this story. A character might seem to be going in a certain direction... may even go there... but it doesn't mean that they will remain there.**

 **I also believe in imperfect characters. In imperfect stories, imperfect endings, imperfect relationships, imperfect understanding, imperfect everything... I want to create a story that is _real_. That a reader can read and then go: "Wow, okay, that felt like it actually happened; that these characters could be _me_ _or someone else I know_. That ending was realistic, because not everything got resolved. Wow."**

 **Often fanfiction is written as a complete fix-it. Fanfiction authors want to address every single thread that has come unraveled from the tapestry of the story written by the original author/screenplay author. These fanfiction authors want a perfect ending, like in Disney storybooks or something...**

 **But life isn't like that.**

 **I was telling one of my long-time readers, who is also my friend, Julia, that some of my favorite characters are the vastly imperfect ones. Such as Macbeth (or Lady Macbeth was Julia's favorite), Garek or Gul Dukat from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, or Tony Soprano from the Sopranos, or Rand al'Thor from The Wheel of Time, or Walter White from Breaking Bad... even Romeo & Juliet when you view the play as a tragedy and not as a romance. They are enticing and exciting characters. Exquisite in their incompleteness and troubles and tragedies, and the pitfalls within their minds.**

 **I use this quote for the title of one of my other stories, Delicious Ambiguity, where what I said above applies perfectly (imperfect ending, imperfect people, imperfect interactions with those around them), but it also applies really well for this story:**

"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity."  
― Gilda Radner

* * *

Rey stared at her grandfather, her shock at what he'd just said increasing with every passing second. He stared back at her, his expression growing more and more troubled but before he could speak Rey whirled away and began to pace the length of his study.

Her red skirt flared around her ankles as she spun at the end of each pass, the fabric puffing out with each kick of Rey's furious strides. Her hands tore through the pins holding her hair off of her face in an elegant twist and then she drove her fingers over and over again through the curled strands.

She had dressed well in anticipation of attending the final negotiations later that morning, wanting to impress upon those attending exactly who she was and the power that she now held―her aunt Tivona had certainly been rubbing off on her, along with the knowledge she had derived from the lessons with the countess. Yet now, after being called to the King in the early morning, Rey felt nothing like the powerful crown princess that she was supposed to be.

She felt undone, raw, emotional, and disbelieving of what she had just heard.

Finally, Rey turned back to face her grandfather. There were a few yards of distance between them, but Rey felt as if there was much more between them now.

She had _trusted_ him.

That would show her for trusting anyone...

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Rey said, her voice icy but utterly calm.

Abimilech drew himself up to his full height, though his shoulders were still slightly stooped with age. "You didn't need to know before now," he stated.

She didn't need to know she was to be married to _Kylo_ _kriffing_ _Ren_?

"Why?" Rey let the hurt she was feeling color her tone. Her grandfather's eyes flinched at the sound, but he kept his gaze firmly on her as she spoke. "Why wouldn't I need to know that I was to be _married_? I should have been told as soon as you started these negotiations! If you were worried I might have thrown a fit, you could've given me the benefit of the doubt. You didn't know me―I may even have surprised you and agreed to it all from the very beginning if you had just treated me like an _adult_ and not a child."

Abimilech blinked before the force of Rey's righteous anger. He sighed and brought one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he did so. Rey gave him the time to gather his thoughts, but her shoulders were heaving with the force of her breaths and she was close to darting from the room, gathering Chewie and BB-2, and high-tailing it out of there.

"I keep forgetting that you were not raised here, U'Rey―that you were lost to us and grew up on your own on Jakku. I do not mean to remind you of the pain of your past, but children who grow up in the Itamaran system amongst the nobility know from a young age that they will likely be betrothed. It is just how things _are_." His gaze flicked to the portrait of him and his wife in their younger years, and Rey's expression softened slightly, her heart squeezing at the emotions playing across his features, as she looked at the painting with him.

"My marriage was arranged, as was your parents', and both of your uncles' marriages as well―Raonaid has been betrothed as well, I believe you heard. It is simply so common that... well, I suppose I didn't think much of it; I assumed that you already _knew_."

Rey shook her head stiffly, looking down at the toes of her slippers peeking out from beneath the vibrant gold thread that hemmed her red dress. She had been blindsided by this information but, she supposed, it did not surprise her that there were still arranged marriages in certain parts of the galaxy, especially incorporated into treaty negotiations. Jakku had their own version of the tradition, but it was nothing like _this_.

"That doesn't answer my question, grandfather," she replied, trying to keep her voice calm, patient, and respectful―not accusing, like she wished. "You say I didn't need to know beforehand. Even if I had known that an arranged marriage was possible, why would you not _tell_ me?"

Instead of answering her right away, her grandfather made his way to his desk chair and settled into it. He took a drink of water from the glass on the desk, and only then did he turn back to address Rey. "I wished to work out all of the details before I bothered you with the particulars, U'Rey. I wished to handle everything myself―no one else knew except for my negotiators and myself, along with the First Order's negotiators―just in case everything fell apart and none of my plans panned out."

" _What_ ―?" Rey was about to unleash on her grandfather and damn the consequences, damn his love for her and her love and respect for him, when there was a loud knock on the door.

Two loud thumps, as commanding as a knock could sound―and then nothing.

Rey crossed her arms over her chest, the sheer gold of her loose sleeves doing little to soothe the goosebumps that had flared up across her skin. She _knew_ who was on the other side of that door. She had realized his presence in the Force the moment the knocks had distracted her from her anger.

Rey wasn't sure if she could face him. Had he known? Surely he must have...

Rey's mind was swirling, nearly making her dizzy with the intensity of her thoughts. Had he _wanted_ this? When was he told? Had he known it was _her_ ―?

"Come in," Abimilech called, straightening within his chair and lacing the fingers of his hands over top of the desk.

Rey could only spare him a single glance before her wide eyes were drawn towards the door.

* * *

Kylo Ren had woken early even though he had only been able to sleep fitfully for four hours. His body was used to this sort of abuse, however, and he barely thought anything of it as he went about his daily ablutions, preparing for the first day of negotiations in the presence of all involved parties.

Hux was to arrive for the late morning session after a holo-conference with other Generals that had been planned for weeks now.

Until then, Kylo was in charge of the delegation―even though he had not once attended a single treaty meeting.

He dressed absently in a long, deep blue coat, buttoning up the antiqued silver buttons over top of his black undershirt, trousers, and boots. Kylo's mind had not once stopped thinking about Rey―even when he was frowning at how odd it felt to dress in garb reminiscent of childhood finery he had been happy to abandon for his day-to-day knightly trousers and robe, she had been in the back of his mind, his thoughts flicking back to her every few moments.

He could not _believe_ his luck.

Everything seemed so surreal―he had been thinking of her nearly non-stop since he had met her; since they had dueled. He had wanted her, _craved_ her, even when he had been told that he would be marrying another.

He knew that he could have both.

 _She_ ―Rey―was the only one that mattered to him anymore. He had wanted to train her, help her, bring her to her full potential and revel in the power that she held... but he had also been filled with a deep desire to possess her; body, mind, and soul.

And he wished to be possessed in return.

He wished to be _hers_.

And here she was―about to be his _bride_.

A slow smile spread across his features as he exited his chambers, foregoing breakfast as was his custom. He could sense the shock and nervousness of the officers in the antechamber who were getting ready for the day in their own ways. He couldn't blame them―it wasn't often that they saw their Commander without his mask, and to see him smile... even he admitted ruefully to himself that _that_ was an entirely rare occasion, and likely looked rather scary to anyone who was unused to seeing his scarred visage _smiling_ of all things.

As he approached the King's study, hoping to catch the man before the negotiations began later on, he heard a muffled feminine voice coming from within the room. Two guards in the King's colors stood stoically to either side of the doorway, and a third―Rey's guard, his mind supplied―leaned against the opposite wall with his arms crossed. He glanced at their swords, recalling what he had learned of Itamar's prowess in battle, both space and personal, and sized them up critically.

He knew he could take them, but without the aid of the Force it would be a close thing.

All three eyed him, their gazes zeroing in nearly at the same moment on the thigh holster that held his lightsaber. Kylo kept his hands still, fingers spread, and nowhere near his weapon, a placid look gracing his scarred features. He had no quarrel with them, and they knew it.

They were all allies here―or as close as the First Order came with an independent system. But no, there was no reason for any of them to distrust the other.

Not presently.

"Commander." Rey's guard greeted him as he pushed himself off of the wall. "It is good to finally meet you. We have heard many things about you." The man bowed slightly towards him, and Kylo raised a brow―the man's rank must be higher than Kylo had originally thought.

The guard must have understood what Kylo was thinking, for the next thing he said was, "We have not been formally introduced but I am Lieutenant Miron Tavi―I am also the Count of Kyreen, and the princess' blood uncle. I would not normally introduce myself as such, but I believe that the information would benefit you," he finished gracefully, inclining his head in a slight nod towards Kylo.

Kylo returned the greeting with a slight bow of his own, though much shallower than even the Count's. As a prince... well, there were certain protocols and etiquette that was ingrained in him from a young age; hard to shake in their entirety. "It would... thank you." The words sounded off from his lips, but they were proper in this circumstance.

Even Kylo Ren could do _proper_ when the occasion called for it.

"Are they―?" Kylo started to ask.

"Go ahead," Miron replied, nodding towards the door. "Honestly, they've been arguing for too long now and could use an interruption." The other two guards flashed a glare at Miron, but did not comment.

His words caught Kylo's interest. "What are they arguing over?" he inquired, brushing his dark hair off of his forehead with a gloved hand.

Miron's gaze sharpened as it caught and held Kylo's own. "The princess... she and I were not made aware of some of the particulars of this treaty, nor of the ties to you," he said somberly.

Kylo felt ice fill his veins―shock... and _rage_. Rage that he might have found Rey and lost her in the same twenty-four hour period... and rage that she _had not been told_. He refused to marry anyone without their full consent, and this... this was going _beyond_ anything he had thought could occur.

Narrowing his eyes, Kylo took a step towards the doors, his body starting to quiver and his mind completely overtaken by the need to take this out on something―or _someone_. He clenched his fist once, twice, three times before lifting it to pound at the door emphatically with two firm knocks.

As soon as he was allowed entrance, he swept in, closing the doors behind him with the Force. He assessed the room as he usually did, noting a guard in the right-hand corner nearest the door, and then settled his gaze upon the King... and his intended.

He completely forewent his bow to Abimilech and Rey, the tremors of anger within his mind demanding he speak before he lashed out with his weapon―if it were anyone else, he would have done just that, and dealt with the consequences later.

He took in Rey's stricken face―she attempted unsuccessfully to cover the expression up as soon as she saw him―before sweeping his eyes down the beautiful red and gold dress she wore. It was much more regal than the beige dress he'd seen her in yesterday, and her skin and hair was clean and glowing with health and beauty...

He snapped his eyes back to King Abimilech. "You didn't tell her of the marriage? Why?" he demanded.

The old man narrowed his eyes at Kylo, but otherwise did not move an inch from his position at his desk.

Rey took a tentative step towards him. Her hand was twitching towards her lower back where her saber rested, but she did not appear to be contemplating attacking him just yet. Kylo kept his body as still as possible, relaxing it slightly so as not to seem threatening to her.

 _This_ was much more like how he'd imagined their reunion to go, even with the severity of the topic hanging over their heads―not like yesterday's encounter at all. That had been a surprise for all involved. No... this was much more to his liking.

"How long have you known?" Rey asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

She was _speaking_ to him; she wasn't trying to kill him... she was asking him a _question_ and waiting for an answer―from _him_. It was more than he'd expected of their first meeting. His heart thumping, he answered her honestly. "I've known since I was a child."

The little pinprick of light within his mind that was _her_ echoed the emotions that he could see crossing her features as she took in that information. She couldn't find any words, but he could practically see her fascinating and quick mind whirring, trying to understand everything.

"You... You've known since you were a _child_? _How_?" she finally asked, her voice sounding slightly frantic as she demanded answers from him.

Kylo shot a glare at the King, who sat placidly by, leaving the conversation between the two younger royals. He took a step towards Rey, watching intently for her to show any signs of discomfort or fear at his increased closeness. She showed none, though it wasn't as if she didn't notice―this girl... she noticed _everything_.

It was one of the things that had drawn him to her.

He took another step towards her until he was an arm's span away. "Rey..."

She scowled at him. "Just answer the question!" she snapped.

Kylo frowned in reply, though he hardly blamed her. "When I was younger, and you―apparently―barely born, my... mother," he bit out, "initiated a cradle betrothal between the both of us, which would tie our two houses or factions together."

"Alderaan..." Rey murmured, a frown furrowing her brows.

"Exactly," Kylo agreed. "When the princess... when you disappeared, the betrothal was not nullified for whatever reason, which allowed for it to be reinitiated once you were discovered again. Unfortunately for the Resistance, the contract was only attached to my name, not to their cause. There is much to gain for Itamar―and for the Order―with this treaty, a marriage acting as the binding agent for it in its entirety."

Rey waved a hand as if in dismissal of all that, her gaze lost in the space between them. He'd never had such a perfect, uninterrupted opportunity to observe the planes and curves of her face and body―not since he'd waited for her to awake back on _Starkiller_ , strapped to the interrogation chair. He let her think as he watched her, his eyes flicking only once towards the shrewd but quiet King sitting in his chair.

"Why didn't she tell me?" she asked, finally latching her gaze onto his. The look of utter _betrayal_ on her face made him want to comfort her; to wrap her in his arms and protect her to the best of his abilities. "Why didn't _he_?"

Kylo knew exactly who she was referring to. "I don't know." He had no good answer for her.

He wished he did, even if only to offer her some peace of mind.

He himself had long ago stopped pondering the logic behind his mother and his uncle's actions.

Rey looked as if she couldn't quite believe the soft tone that was coming from him, or the soft expression that Kylo knew was gracing his features at that very moment. He was angry on her behalf... but he couldn't hold back the tenderness he was feeling for her. She brought out feelings of protectiveness and possessiveness in him like _no one_ ever had.

He would make this _all_ go away if he could.

Kylo knew he would hate himself for this later... but he also knew that he would hate himself _even more_ if he didn't make sure that she knew all of the relevant details. He needed to take care of her, even if that would make attaining her favor that much harder. "You are aware that you have to consent to this marriage, even if there is already a contract in place? Both Itamaran law and First Order law requires this and there is no legal way that you or your system can be penalized for obeying said laws."

 _No legal way_ , he repeated to himself, bitterly.

Rey stared at him, her jaw going slightly slack as she processed the information. Her gaze softened as she continued to look at him, and she seemed to almost view him _kindly_...

 _Force_ , was she gorgeous. The red and gold was stunning on her, enhancing the tan of her skin and the freckles covering what he could see of her body, and the cut of the bodice allowing him to admire the shape of her as a woman for the first time―even her dress yesterday hadn't been quite as form-fitting as the top of this one. Yet it was her face and hair that kept him entranced, and the force of her personality.

That... _that_ was what he wanted; what he _needed_.

He was beginning to grow concerned, his anger spiking again at the thought that she really _hadn't_ been told that she could dissent to the marriage, when she finally spoke. "I was told that, yes. It was as an explanation to my concerns at my young cousin's betrothal. I..." she shut her mouth, a pained expression crossing her features, and Kylo took another involuntary step towards her. No more than two feet spanned the distance between them, but she barely even noticed.

He had not been this close to her, without a negative reaction from her... well, not _ever_. Delicious warmth thrummed through his nerves, and he stared intently at her, memorizing every single one of her features and not caring in the least that there was an audience.

Kylo wasn't even aware that he had been leaning towards her, inch by inch, until he startled slightly back as she turned towards her grandfather and squared her shoulders, tilting her chin up just _so_ —and yes, _of course_ she was royalty... he really should have recognised the air of regality that surrounded her sooner.

"What would you think of me if I said no to this, ruining all of these plans that you made without my knowledge―plans you made using me as a bargaining chip; as a way into negotiations?"

Kylo couldn't quite hide the surprise that crossed his features. He was continuously surprised by how smart she was, for her to have picked up on that fact. A burst of pride swelled within his chest for a woman he had only the flimsiest of claims to.

Her grandfather did not stand.

Of course, there was no need for him to do so as the King, but Kylo found himself cursing the old man for a self-righteous, indignant fool. _He_ would have stood out of respect if Rey were his granddaughter, no matter how angry he was at the woman―there were some things that were done no matter the feelings of the ones involved.

Abimilech answered her, his eyes showing care for Rey... but also a hardness that Kylo recognized as the mark of the good ruler he knew the man to be―what had made him incomparable among the other independent systems. His voice carried the same mix as he met her gaze. "If that is your will, we will accept it. It is law. But what it also is, is undutiful. I expect you to be no such thing. Our family has always taken their duty to our people very seriously and placed the needs of the people before our own."

Kylo felt a flash of rage―so similar to the way his own anger often felt that it made his lips curl up infinitesimally―billow out from Rey through the small, but very present, connection that ran between them before she slammed a lid on her emotions. Her demeanor turned icy as she curtsied very curtly towards her grandfather and then turned to face Kylo.

Rey's gaze flitted from top to bottom and up again, as if taking in his appearance for the first time that morning. A lick of appreciation graced her features and Kylo felt his mouth go dry, blood pounding in his ears, even as she said the last words he'd ever expected hear from her.

"Thank you. I'm glad that someone here has _my_ best interests at heart." Her gaze had met and held his steadily, and he could see that she really meant it, surprising as it might be to her―and to him―that she did.

She was _thanking_ him? Perhaps... perhaps winning her over would be easier than he'd ever thought it would be. Perhaps everything he wanted could _still_ be his. He wanted her... but he wanted her to _want_ him as well. If this treaty fell through... maybe there was still hope.

The seeds of trust―or at least the mending of trust―had been sown.

Nodding towards him, she broke his gaze, a faint flush edging onto her cheeks.

Perhaps she'd caught that thought... He smirked inwardly, deciding to test out a theory of his―a theory that had grown since he'd kissed her hand and she'd reacted so gloriously to the touch.

As she made to pass him, he pressed the tips of his fingers lightly into the crook of her elbow; just enough to suggest she halt. Not caring one whit for the old man or guard who could see, Kylo Ren leaned down until his lips were a breath away from her ear. He let them ghost over her skin as he whispered, "Either way, marriage or no, I want you."

He couldn't keep the smug grin off of his face at the sound of her startled gasp, her breast brushing against his arm and causing his breath to catch in his throat for a brief moment as she rushed past him and out the doors, fleeing from him... Fleeing from Kylo Ren.

Fleeing from the desire he was now _sure_ she felt for him as well.


	8. Chapter 8

**Note: No 'I'd start a war for you' this week, I'm sorry everyone. Maybe later in the week if I get inspired or feel better. But as it is, I'm in pain and can't concentrate on much, and my hands keep shaking and twitching so much that it's hard to type or use my mouse properly. I'm taking about double the time to reply to people than normal.** **As it was, I was already super behind on replying to reviews/comments (I am so sorry - I will be getting to all that soon; or at least get started on it. :'/)** **Basically I had my second pain flare in three weeks and my body is not recovering the same as last time. But here, have some already-written fic!**

* * *

"You know that you can say no, Rey."

Tivona walked up behind Rey and leaned on the windowsill that Rey was perched on. She placed her palms on the sill and looked out at the city, cast in the beautiful hues of an Itamaran sunset.

Rey didn't say anything right away. She continued to watch the people of her city― _her_ people―as they went about their business with no clue as to what was going on behind the walls of the castle grounds.

They were free to live their lives as they saw fit, while _she_ was controlled to the point that even her husband would be chosen for her. She was nothing more than a pawn to these people… to the people who called themselves her family.

Even her aunt.

Rey finally looked at Tivona from the corner of her eye, not moving her head to face her. "You know of my history with him, do you not?" There was no need to specify who exactly she was referring to.

Tivona inclined her head. "I do."

"I've only ever known of him as my enemy," Rey murmured. "How could I _marry_ my enemy? How could I be―" she choked slightly then continued, "― _intimate_ with him?" Rey would be a liar if she said she hadn't ever thought about kissing the other man, especially since encountering him in her grandfather's study yesterday for the first time since their battle on _Starkiller_. She'd be a liar if she said she hadn't thought of the intensity of his gaze, of having his hands caress her, but… _sex_? She hadn't truly pondered that topic―not _ever_. To consider being intimate for the first time with her enemy was something that stole her breath away―and not entirely in a good way.

Reaching forward, Tivona gripped one of Rey's hands with her own, and Rey was surprised when she didn't pull her hand away. It seemed she didn't blame her aunt for this―not fully. From what she understood, Tivona hadn't known about the arrangement.

"Then don't marry him," the dark-haired woman replied as Rey finally met her eyes.

Rey clenched her eyes shut. "It's not that simple though, is it?" she whispered.

"No. It's not. But it _is_ your legal right, Rey."

Rey remained quiet again, soothed by the feeling of Tivona's thumb sweeping gently across the back of her hand, and by the knowledge that she could say no if she wished to. But they were both right: it wasn't as simple as saying 'no'. There would be repercussions, both if she said no and also if she said yes, but at this moment Rey was more worried about what would happen if she said no.

The First Order obviously wanted something from Itamar if they were willing to go through with these negotiations. And what they wanted must be important indeed to their war effort for them to basically sell their most prized possession―their top Force user and warrior―to the Itamarans. Kylo Ren might want her―he'd made that perfectly clear this morning―but he hadn't known that _she_ would be who he was marrying before yesterday.

The fact of the matter was that Kylo Ren and she had a lot more in common than she had originally thought.

The First Order was ordering his life around just as much as her family was ordering hers.

And ultimately, there _would_ be consequences―on them both―if they were to reject the marriage. But… most of the consequences would be felt by Itamar. The First Order could make the independent system suffer through means that they could claim were not directly related to the breakdown of these negotiations, and Itamar did not have the power to stop them.

Her people would suffer. They would suffer _greatly_. She knew what the First Order could do. She'd seen it with her own eyes, felt the Force cry out when Hosnia had been destroyed. They didn't have _Starkiller_ anymore, but there were many different methods that the First Order could use to rain down vengeance upon a smaller―though not insignificant―galactic power.

From what she understood, and what her uncle had filled her in on over the course of the day since her meeting with the king and her… betrothed, Itamar stood to gain a lot from the First Order. She couldn't deny what she had heard of Itamar's past with the Republic, that they had only ever blossomed when they came out from under the thumb of that government, and that they only stood to gain even more security with the First Order.

The First Order stood to gain plenty from this arrangement, but Rey took solace in the fact that her grandfather and uncle had both said they did not plan to contribute their own troops or operate their own ships in the war to come; in the war that was already here, and had been here with the opening salvo upon the Hosnian system. There was no escaping this war, but Itamar was doing its best to survive to the other side of it all unscathed. And to protect as many of their people as possible.

With this deal they could be as independent as possible without incurring the wrath of the power rising around them―the First Order was on their doorstep, and they weren't going anywhere.

As much as Rey wished to take her chances by saying no on behalf of the people of Itamar, there was also the pesky fact that this marriage and subsequent treaty represented more than just the Itamaran system―there were hundreds of other planets who were part of the alliance, who stood to gain from her decision.

She, Rey, someone who had once been no one, had the weight of countless worlds upon her shoulders; one word could mean the difference between life and death for billions of people.

Suddenly Rey was pulled into a large hug by the woman she had forgotten was by her side. Tivona's arms wrapped tightly and securely around her niece, cradling her sideways against her chest as Rey released tears she didn't know were trapped within her. She was rocked back and forth, unintelligible words murmured into the curly mess of her hair, as she sobbed out all the pressure and responsibility that she was feeling.

Life had been so much simpler on Jakku.

Now wasn't _that_ a depressing thought.

And yet… there was so much she had gained since being swept along in the Resistance's grand adventure. So much she had learned, been given, found on her own… and if none of that had ever happened, her family would _never_ have found her.

Her family who _loved_ her―even her grandfather loved her, for all that he was arranging a marriage for her and had never once let on. She could forgive him that, however, as he was doing what he felt was right, what he needed to do, for the sake of the people he was sworn to protect.

With a last, quaking sob, Rey forgave her grandfather. She took another minute to calm her breathing before looking up into the eyes of her aunt.

"Better?" Tivona asked before she could say anything herself.

Rey nodded in reply, then paused before asking something that she desperately needed to know before making her final decision. "What would I expect from marriage if I were to agree, Aunt? What would life be like with him?"

Her aunt pursed her lips, but looked down upon Rey proudly. "Well, I can't speak to specifics, but from what Miron has told me of his observations of the man, he seems rather smitten with you."

Rey blushed, a thrill shooting up her spine as she remembered the words he'd spoken to her this morning.

"And if I'm not mistaken, you seem rather attracted to him as well…" Tivona teased gently, and then moved on before Rey could protest like she wanted to. "A couple of days after the ceremony he'll be returning to his duties. I believe he intends to return every so often, as needed or as he pleases, but the bulk of his time will be on his ship and focusing on the war effort."

Rey flinched at the last, but she was glad to hear that he would mostly be absent from her life. Perhaps she could avoid him for the rest of her life… surely there must be ways… "And what will my change in status mean?" she asked curiously.

"Ah, a very important question. Most girls in your position would already know this, having grown up with the knowledge ingrained in them," her aunt mused. "As a married woman you will have a lot more freedom and power, though I suppose not much will change for you, as you already have freedom and power as the crown princess. But there will be certain differences in how you are addressed, how you are treated, and you will be able to travel through a larger circle of people as a married woman compared to an unattached one. It's much more proper that way, I suppose." Tivona rolled her eyes and Rey couldn't help letting loose a little giggle at the sight, and the slight sarcasm her aunt had infused into her words.

Suddenly her laughter was cut off and she pulled out of her aunt's arms to sit straight up on the window ledge, taking a moment to steady herself so that she did not fall in her alarmed state. A thought had crossed her mind, and she was horrified that she hadn't thought of it earlier.

It was important, but she supposed the fate of billions of people resting on her decision was much more important than the life of one… or at least one more, in this case.

She met her aunt's concerned gaze with wide eyes. "Will I…" she whispered, "…will I have to have… _children_ with him?" She was horrified. She'd never thought about having children before. She admitted she had liked the occasional child she'd run across over the years, and her cousin Rany was a balm to her soul… but she'd never thought that she would have her _own_.

Tivona's expression softened as she placed the palm of her hand on top of Rey's knee. "Oh Rey… I know it can be a scary prospect, having children…" She kept talking over top of the beginning of Rey's angry protest, and Rey settled down enough to listen. "What you do in your marriage, and in your marriage _bed_ …" Rey winced at the mere thought. "…is your business. You can have him once, you can have him more times than you can count…" Rey's face turned bright red. "…or, technically, you could have him not at all―I know some women who faked the consummation with their husbands, though I highly advise against it for legal reasons―but it ultimately _is_ your choice. You are the last true heir to the throne of this lineage. If you pass away without an heir of your own, the throne will go to your closest blood relative, which would mean it would go to… Hm. I believe that would be the Duke of Forsym, who is old and a widower himself.

"Honestly, Rey, it would be better for Itamar if you _did_ have a child. That way there could be a clear succession with no complications, and no chance of civil war breaking out within the system. It's happened before, and it wasn't pretty. But… it is _your_ body. He can't force you to do anything, even while married. You have rights; we've come a long way over the millennia."

Rey could feel herself going pale but she clenched her eyes tightly and pushed the thought out of her mind―for now, at least. She had the information she needed, but she had plenty of time to make a decision on the matter.

She was young.

Perhaps he would die before it ever became a pressing issue, and she could remarry someone else who was much more… well, anyone would do as long as they weren't her enemy.

Rey immediately felt guilty for the thought. She didn't truly wish death on him, on anyone, even if they were her enemy. The guilt of _Starkiller_ still weighed heavily on her, and she didn't want to add anything else to her conscience.

Though technically, whether she said yes or no to the marriage, people would die―Itamarans and First Order if she said no, Resistance and First Order if she were to say yes.

Unfortunately for the Resistance, the Itamarans and her family had become more important to her.

However… There was the chance of something else…

Rey slowly pulled herself off of the ledge, past her aunt, and straightened herself and her red dress once her feet were firmly planted on the floor of her apartment. Her eyes glinted as the thought played over and over in her mind. She barely noticed her aunt stand up and walk to her wardrobe to rifle through the contents.

Perhaps… there was a chance that Rey could change things from the inside, little by little. She could use her connection with Kylo Ren, a Commander and highly important individual within the First Order, for the possible benefit of the war. He seemed focused on her, obsessed even, and Rey could see that working to her benefit.

Perhaps she could change the course of war from within.

Perhaps she could stop the war before it took countless more lives, or at least lessen the terrible impact the war would have upon the galaxy.

All it would require on her part was her agreeing to this marriage, and going through with it as best she was able.

It was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

Rey turned to her aunt, who was holding up a soft gold-colored gown, and let a tentative smile play across her lips. "Come, aunt, let's have dinner with uncle Miron, and then I must request a favor from you both."

She didn't mention to her aunt the final thing that had made up her mind…

If she ran, she wouldn't get far. He would find her eventually. She believed the promise that he had hinted at this morning when he said he wanted her, marriage or no.

She may as well face him here and now.

Rey was no coward.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me?" were the first words out of her mouth.

Rey had managed to talk Miron and Tivona into letting her access the communications hub which housed connections to satellites with a longer range than BB-2 could achieve. She had been set up in a private office, though her uncle could see her through the glass of one of the office's windows. Rey made every attempt to school her features as she confronted one of the people she had come to trust―and who had ultimately let her down.

"It's good to hear from you, Rey, though I must say it's surprising." Leia greeted Rey with a calm voice over the audio-only transmission, ignoring the accusation in Rey's voice―at least initially. "What did I not tell you?" she queried finally.

"You didn't tell me that your son and I were _betrothed_!" Rey snapped, and then covered her mouth with one hand as her eyes widened. She was surprised at the anger welling up in her. Even though it was justified, she had thought she'd be much more controlled than this. And yet she refused to apologize.

Rey heard the sound of something shattering on Leia's end―it sounded like the older woman had dropped a mug or a plate on a hard surface. She waited for Leia to say something― _anything_ ―but there was nothing forthcoming. "General Organa?" Rey asked in a much gentler tone.

"I… I'm here," came Leia's voice finally, though it was shaky, sounding smaller and more tremulous than Rey had ever heard it sound before. She took a deep breath and then forged ahead before Rey could prod her again for an answer. "I never expected Itamar to want to ally themselves with the First Order, for one thing," she explained. "And for another, I didn't think they _knew_ who… who _Kylo Ren_ had been. Most everyone thought or assumed he died over a decade ago, and we chose not to correct those assumptions. When the princess… when _you_ disappeared all those years ago, you were assumed dead as well, and the betrothal contract was never pursued."

Leia heaved a sigh. "There was so much going on at the time that I never thought to void the contract. I never thought it would become an issue and I never had the _time_ to travel to Itamar to officially nullify the documents in the legal and acceptable manner. I just… forgot.

"I'm sorry, Rey."

Rey glowered at the wall for a long moment before her shoulders drooped. She couldn't hold it against Leia―not truly. "It's… it's alright, General," she assuaged the other woman.

"How could they fulfill this contract though?" Leia asked, her mind obviously still stuck in the past. "The contract was for… for _Ben Solo_ , not… not what he is now and―"

Rey cut her off, "It's for the Prince of Alderaan alone, and not for any specific organization attached to him, General Organa. Believe you me, I quizzed my uncle on it for a long time this evening, and the contract is perfectly valid as it's being interpreted."

Rey heard Leia sigh in defeat. "I should have nullified the damn thing…" she muttered, mostly to herself, before speaking up once more. "Rey, you don't have to do this. You can come live with us. You can remain here, and we'll protect you. You have friends here―people who view you as family―who love and miss you and would do anything they could to protect and value you. We wouldn't treat you as a commodity to be bought or sold or―"

"You mean unlike how you treated your son when you drafted the betrothal with Itamar in the first place?" Rey interjected angrily, suddenly feeling compassion and a sense of _connectedness_ to the man whom she was about to marry―a man who had his life signed away, quantified, all for political gain when he had been but a child.

When he had been no more than a young boy who craved his mother's love, and instead was given the knowledge that he would be forced to move away to marry a girl whom he'd never even met… to be sent away to a place with no family, no friends, no familiar places, with only the slimmest of hope that he would be able to carve out a place for himself that he could come to love… with no guarantee that he would ever be loved in return.

"Can you imagine how that made him _feel_ , Leia? I doubt it―but _I_ can imagine it. Because I'm living it. But at least I have a choice. Not a very good choice, but a choice nonetheless."

"Rey, listen―"

"No. You listen," Rey interrupted her coolly, angrier than she knew she should be but unable to quell the feeling rising inside of her. She struggled to contain the upwelling of the Force within her, taking a deep breath before quickly continuing. "I have a choice, Leia. And I choose to follow through with this. This opportunity might seem like it only offers bad things for the Resistance and for the galaxy that is not currently under First Order Control, but…"

And here her voice softened, finally. "…there is a lot I can do from within, Leia. I am not helpless. In fact, I gain a lot of power and control over the fate of the galaxy from the position I am being placed in. You have my word that I will do my best with what I am given, and that I will not forget you or the others who have granted me love and friendship over the last year."

A long minute of silence met her pronouncement before Rey sighed, realizing that she was not likely to be able to make the other woman understand her choices. She would need time to fully comprehend the fallout and consequences of what was occurring.

"General." Rey used the woman's title again, granting her respect once more. She didn't want to be at odds with this woman or the others who had granted her sanctuary and happiness after leaving Jakku. "I must go, but can you… I can't bear to tell Finn or even Poe what is happening. Not even Luke. You were the only one I thought might not have a heart attack when they heard the news," she laughed humorlessly. "I just… tell them I love them and that I'm okay. I know Finn thought…" She clenched her eyes tightly shut, but a single tear still escaped from beneath her eyelids and her voice started to quiver. "I know Finn thought we might be more one day, and I thought so too… I can't face him."

"I understand, Rey," Leia said gently. "I can do that for you. I can't promise he or the others won't try and attempt a rescue," she informed Rey dryly, "but I can do my best to make sure they understand what's going on. Even if I don't like it, Rey… I understand. I… wish you the best with everything. And you know that you only have to call out to us and we'll come get you, consequences be damned!" she promised fervently.

"Thank you…" Rey whispered, though it was loud enough for Leia to hear, she knew.

They were silent for another long moment before Rey asked, with concern, "Do you know how I can get Chewie to calm down? He's… he's not come out of his room since he learned… since _he_ arrived."

"Wait―you mean… _he_ is there already?" Leia cut in, her voice caught between shock and… was that wistfulness? "Never mind," she said right after her initial response. "It doesn't matter… Not really. As far as Chewbacca goes, all you can really do is wait. Let him have his space. He… I imagine this is hard on him. He's never dealt with these sorts of emotional shocks very well, strong as he might seem. Just give him time, Rey. We'll send a shuttle for him sooner than we planned, in light of this news."

"I… I should go now," Rey stated finally. "I still haven't spoken with my grandfather, and I really must…"

"Alright, Rey. Please… please be careful. My… my son is volatile. I don't know what kind of man he is anymore, and my heart is trying to insist that he is still in there, somewhere deep inside of that _creature_ he has become… but you can't bank your safety on that supposition, Rey. You must guard yourself at all times. Continue to train. Protect your body _and_ your heart. He… he has always been capable of doing what must be done to achieve what he wants. And if he wants you… Maker help you. Be wary of that."

"I will. Thank you. Oh… and General Organa?" Rey decided to ask something she had been unsure about until just that moment.

"Yes?"

"If I can arrange it so that there is the guarantee of safe passage… will you come?" she asked in a small voice.

"To the wedding?" Leia asked, mildly shocked.

Rey's silence was her confirmation.

"I… I'll have to think on it, Rey."

"Thank you." Rey inclined her head at the console, even though she knew Leia could not see it.

"May the Force be with you, Rey."

It took Rey nearly a whole half-minute for her to whisper, "And also with you," before she reached over and thumbed off the connection.

She sat with her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands for at least half an hour, gathering her thoughts and feelings, before standing up and sweeping from the room, past her uncle, and making her way through the halls towards her grandfather's study as regally as she could. Her uncle said not a word, and she was grateful for his tact.

Every moment of every day would now be spent preparing her mind and body―and _heart_ , a traitorous part of her whispered―for what was to come.

She had to remain strong. She could not allow herself to give in.

She needed to _win_ the coming battle for the sake of not only herself, but for all the people who relied on her.

Rey was doing this for _them_.


	9. Chapter 9

**Note: I want to give a visual representation of what Rey is wearing for her wedding, and thus this note! The reference pictures I used will be posted on my Tumblr, juuls, under the tag 'Mitzvah', but there is also a beautiful piece of art that was drawn by the ever-wonderful panda-cappuccino on Tumblr, gifted to me as a pick-me-up at the time by grlie-girl. I love you, girl. *heart* (Also found under the tag 'Mitzvah'.)**

* * *

Kylo had never imagined he'd find himself _want_ _ing_ to get married. He'd spent almost all of his teenage years fiercely protesting the betrothal, and most of the adult years that followed his leaving of his family, and all obligations that came with being a part of said family, he had spent shoving the thought entirely from his mind.

The original betrothal had, in fact, played a large part in his decision to escape his family. To be forced into something that he didn't want… _knowing_ that his parents wanted to ship him off to a system weeks' worth of travelling away, in order to be a simple _consort_ … that had torn at him; dug its claws into his heart and ripped it to pieces.

Had they truly not thought him capable of creating a life, a _fate_ , better than that of a mere consort to a spoiled little princess in a far off system?

And _then_ _,_ as if to add insult to injury, he had been shipped off to his uncle for daily Jedi training, rather than the spotty training he'd received whenever the man could spare the time to visit during his younger years.

For years after he'd left, the only time the concept of marriage had entered his thoughts had been the brief moments when he had thought of his mother and father's failure of one. They hadn't been mature enough—might not ever have been—to make a marriage work _or_ to raise a child. Would he follow in their footsteps?

Would he ever be mature enough to be married, even if he _wanted_ to? Would his marriage become like the one his parents had, before… before he kill—

Kylo shook his head sharply, trying to derail his train of thought. He stared into the full-length mirror before him as he adjusted the cuffs on his black overcoat. It draped over his black britches to mid-thigh, and beneath it he wore another black shirt, though it was more form fitting than his usual garments.

It was reminiscent of his normal knightly wardrobe, which comforted him, but different enough that he looked courtly. Hux had done a good job choosing his clothes.

For the first time in a _long_ time, Kylo found himself actually caring about how he looked to others. There would be no mask to hide behind, no long layers of thick cloth to drape over and hide his body… he _wanted_ to be seen. He wanted Rey to look into his eyes and see exactly how he felt. Exactly what she _did_ to him. He did not care if she saw the desire as weakness; did not care if she had unhindered access to his features.

He never wanted to hide from her.

Had not wanted to hide from her from the moment she had pushed back into his mind on _Starkiller Base._

Rey…

He hadn't seen her in just over a month. The last time he'd seen her had been when he'd interrupted her and her grandfather speaking after she'd found out about the betrothal.

Then, shortly after hearing from the king that Rey had accepted the betrothal of her own volition, he had had to return to the _Finalizer_ , still in orbit, so that they could depart on a short mission in a nearby system.

The short mission had felt like it had taken _months_ , not weeks, however.

Kylo's mind couldn't stop playing over the elation and desire that had coursed through him when he'd heard of Rey's official agreement to the marriage. He barely even remembered the mission—something about recapturing a munitions depot—so consumed by Rey was he.

They had returned yesterday, the day before the wedding, cutting it rather close in Kylo's opinion.

But the day was finally here.

And the wedding _night_ …

Kylo slowly ran both hands through his hair, pushing his fingers into his scalp as he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He needed to remind himself that Rey might not wish to consummate. There were no antiquated laws or traditions here that required observation of the act or proof of consummation— _thank the Maker_ —and though he himself wished to get lost in her body as he had done so many times in the privacy of his dreams, he knew that she could and very likely would say no.

And there was no way he would force himself on her. He wished to win her heart, her soul, her mind… not just her _body_. He lusted for it, yes, but it was the last thing that he wanted on the list of things that made her _Rey_.

"Cut that out or your hair will get greasy. There's no time to dry it again if you are forced to take another shower."

Hux's voice cut into Kylo's musings, and he opened his eyes to stare into the mirror once more. He could just make out Hux in it, so he turned towards his friend to address him properly. "You know very well that my hair won't—"

His words cut off abruptly as he caught sight of what Hux was holding, draped over the arms of his black and red military dress uniform. He stared silently for a long minute, barely aware that Hux was keeping silent, giving him time to process.

"Where did you get that?" he finally whispered, eyes refusing to leave the elegantly-stitched fabric.

"I had the ship's tailors working on it since the princess officially agreed," Hux replied carefully as he gripped the heavy fabric and unfurled it before him in its entirety. "They had to do some archival research, but they assure me that the colors and sigil are correct. If it is not, we can… well, we might be able to—"

"No, it's exactly correct," Kylo interjected, his voice firmer than before though still quiet, barely keeping out of his voice the sudden desire for _home_ that he felt. After all these years…

"What's it for?" he asked, confused, his mind reeling down paths he had only just escaped from.

Hux huffed out a sigh and peered at him over top of the cloak as he started to loosely fold it again. "Of course you didn't read the brief on the marriage ceremony you were given."

"I skimmed it," Kylo growled, eyes still trained on the dark blue fabric with white stitching. "I at least know my words."

"Well, then you should have realized that part of the ceremony involves an exchange of cloaks in the family colors, not just rings. It is an Itamaran tradition for both families, no matter if it is the woman or the man marrying into the other's family. It's a symbol that both families are equally important in the marriage, and that any… progeny… is of both houses, not just that of whose family name is taken." Hux sighed again and stepped towards Kylo, getting close enough to the other man that he looked up from Hux's arms and met his gaze. "Really, Kylo. How typical of you. Here, take this. Hold it like… so," he said as he transferred the cloak to Kylo's arms, adjusting it over his left forearm so that one of the embroidered white sigils was front and center, facing outwards.

"Come. You don't wish to be late to your own wedding, do you?" Hux's voice was gruff and stern, but the sound of it soothed Kylo's frayed nerves. He never thought he'd admit to the sound of his friend's voice being a comfort, but suddenly he felt lost, and it was the only thing familiar that he could grasp onto.

Perhaps he _still_ wasn't ready for marriage.

The transferring of the cloak to his arms hadn't just added a physical weight to Kylo. It had also added the weight of the Organa family legacy to his shoulders—the exact thing that had played a role in his betrayal of said family so many years ago.

"Kylo," Hux spoke firmly, and Kylo looked up to see the redhead at the entrance to the rooms, one hand on the door handle. His body language was stiff, but the green eyes revealed a brief flash of compassion before being hidden behind his cold façade once more.

"Coming," Kylo replied, and was relieved when his voice did not quaver. He was _Kylo Ren_ now—not the weakling, _Ben Solo_ —and there was nothing that he could not face and overcome.

Except, perhaps, Rey.

* * *

Leia Organa tugged at the hood of her cloak, more out of a lack of anything else to do than out of a need to adjust the cloth subtly concealing her features. Her eyes swept the great hall below the balcony where she sat, leaning her arms against the banister before her, and taking in as many details as she could.

This was the hall where her son would be _married_.

Destiny had a way of catching up to everyone.

Not for the first time, Leia found herself internally berating her past self for being so consumed with the Senate that she had been remiss in declaring the betrothal contract null and void when Ben had… when he had left for good. There had been too much red tape, too many lines to sign, and it had necessitated a long trip to Itamar itself to finalize.

And… she could not lie to herself even now… she had been holding out hope that Ben would return. The contract had been one of her last ties to him, flimsy as it was.

Be that as it may, this was still all her fault.

"Sister."

Leia angled her body so that she could face Luke. "Yes, brother?" They had both agreed to not call each other by name, even when they felt that their privacy was assured. The Itamarans had assured them of their protection while they were here, though Leia had her doubts that the First Order even knew that they were present for the ceremony. She preferred to keep it that way for as long as possible.

They were only here to bear witness… and because Leia could not imagine missing an opportunity to see her son—and at his _wedding_ at that.

Only she and her brother, and a small group of trusted, combat-ready officers, had come. She had made the choice to keep Finn and Poe Dameron back at the base, despite their protests, and had ordered them to be kept under surveillance so that they might not escape to come and… well, honestly, they would have made a right mess of things if they were here, even if Leia herself wanted to stomp down there and cause a commotion big enough to halt the proceedings.

She sighed again.

"Your anxiety is pooling around you like a cloud," Luke told her calmly. "You must pull it in or we will be noticed."

Leia narrowed her eyes at him. "The only ones who could tell that are Rey and… and…" She couldn't say his name—she wasn't even sure _what_ name to call him.

Luke lifted an eyebrow at her even as he settled more comfortably back into his padded chair. "I have already sensed the presence of at least four others, sister, _besides_ those two. Although I believe three to be untrained sensitives with no idea of their gift, the fourth is very likely a knight. You must exercise caution. Breathe as I know you know how, pull the cloud within you, and you can pass as one untrained."

Taking a deep breath, Leia did as he suggested, releasing her anxious feelings into the Force as Luke had taught her so many years ago. When she felt calmer, she opened her eyes to meet those of Luke's. "And what of yours, brother? Will they not sense you?"

His lips quirked upwards slightly before he replied, "It's as if I am no one special. No gifts at all. A broad-effect mind trick, if you will."

Leia shook her head ruefully at him, though she smiled slightly as she turned back towards the hall below. Her brother had grown so much and learned so many things over the years… sometimes it was hard to remember the innocent, bright-eyed young man he had been when they first met, all those long years ago, but then his lips would twitch playfully, his eyebrow would raise, and he would express his simple joy at a trick learned and done well, and that young man would shine through his eyes once more…

It reminded her of Han.

Leia clenched her eyes shut, turned her hooded face away from Luke, and struggled to breathe through the sudden onslaught of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She wrapped them around her, desperate to hold them close so that they would not escape.

And the truth was that she wanted to hold on to the sad thoughts as well as the happy ones; they were all that she had left of her husband. They may not have had the perfect marriage, the perfect life, but they had loved each other enough to transcend even that. Even after… after _he_ had left… and after Han had been unable to look Leia in the eye, and she him, without guilt assailing them… even after all that, they had still loved each other fiercely.

A large, heavy hand settled on her shoulder from behind, and Leia did not need to look to see that the hand or the body she sensed behind hers was covered in shaggy dark brown hair. He did not say a word, and neither did she, but Leia reached up with her hand to place it over Chewbacca's where it rested on her shoulder, and she leaned her covered cheek against the warm hand. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed her shoulder lightly in turn.

He was a good friend—had _always_ been a good friend—and could tell when she needed comfort, and when she wished to be left alone. He had suffered just as much as she had, however, with Han's loss, if not more. He had _witnessed_ it, had wounded her son, his nephew, the little one whom he had adored as if he were his own, out of rage and desperation, and still to this day was unsure if it was worse that he had wounded the man… or if it would have been worse to kill him, as he very well could have in that moment.

Leia knew how much he struggled with that, even on a daily basis, and then to have had the very same man show up unannounced while he was here on Itamar with Rey… Well, Leia was glad to have ordered him home with her right after the ceremony— _before_ the reception. There was too much risk in staying.

But Luke… Luke would be staying. The Itamarans were none too pleased with them over that fact, but they had—even if reluctantly—finally agreed to grant the man protection so that he could continue his padawan's training as he had planned. Granted, of course, that he followed their laws while he was here… and caused no trouble with the new consort.

With his nephew.

Leia had no idea how that would pan out, but she trusted her brother. She trusted Luke to know how to handle the situation the best that he could—and to come home immediately to her if he felt his life was in any danger. The Itamarans had promised him safety… but it was not a guarantee.

Suddenly, the loud chatter in the hall below fell to a hushed murmur. Leia and Luke sat forward in their seats, just enough to see over the banister to the dais at the far side of the hall.

Ben—Kylo—her _son_ —was striding down the center of the hall from the great hall's entrance doors, the crowd parting before him as if he were a hot knife parting butter. His long black coat fluttered behind him as he stalked towards the dais. There, an officiant met him with quiet words, and only after they were finished speaking did Kylo turn to face the crowd.

It was the first sight Leia had had of her son, in person, in… in _too long_.

She drank in the sight of him like a woman dying of thirst would drink in water, holding her breath the entire time, her mind completely blank.

He was her son. Her long-lost son.

He may be the murderer of her husband, his father… but _he was her son_.

A son that she had not seen in person—or even in anything better than a grainy surveillance image—since he was barely past puberty. He had shown signs then of looking like his father… but oh _Force,_ he looked so like Han now… with hints of her and her uncle within his drawn features…

 _Oh Maker_ , Leia thought, _why would you do this to me? Why must he look so like him? I can hardly bear it…_

Her gaze lingered on his scar for a moment before drifting down his body, her eyes drawn to the only piece of color on his person, a…

A cloak.

He was holding a cloak in the Organa family colors, blue and white, with their sigil displayed proudly, front and center, upon the cloth.

Leia's heart constricted.

She had known of the tradition in Itamar for both families to provide a cloak in their colors for the marriage ceremony, but she had simply assumed that Ben—that _Kylo_ —would insist on foregoing this aspect of the ceremony.

Or worse yet—that he would use a cloak with the First Order's sigil and colors.

But… he had chosen to bear the mantle of his family name. He had chosen to be seen as an Organa before the Itamaran people. He had chosen to go forth into his future with his past held tightly in his arms. He had chosen to cloak his new bride, and perhaps the mother of his children, in the colors of the family he had forsaken.

… He was choosing to be an Organa on today of all days, when appearances and names dictated how he would be viewed in the future.

Leia didn't even realize she was crying until her brother lifted his gloved mechanical hand to her cheek to brush away the tears with his thumb. He left his hand framing her cheek until she reached up with her own hand and gripped his, bringing it to her lap and squeezing it tightly within her own. "Thank you…" she whispered hoarsely.

He simply squeezed her hand back, knowing that she needed the silence of his understanding more than anything else right then.

Leia looked back towards her son, tears still streaming down her cheeks. But the tears did not obstruct the view that awaited her.

He was staring straight up at her.

When their gazes met, his eyes widened, as if he wasn't quite sure it was her until that moment. But in that moment, when his eyes met those of his mother, his expression was as open as it had been as a child. It didn't matter that seconds later his expression closed off into an emotionless mask—for those few seconds, seconds which felt like a lifetime to Leia Organa, the mother saw the truth in the eyes of her wayward son.

There was shock, of course; shock at seeing her there. But there was also sorrow, and regret, and pain, and sadness at the distance between them—and it was more than _physical_ distance… Yet right before he shut himself off from the keen insight of his mother—before she could see _everything that he was_ —she also saw power, pride, and self-assurance, confidence and poise that had never been there as a child, or as a young man still growing.

And in those last moments, Leia regretted the past more than ever before. She regretted that he had found those things only _after_ parting from her, and her brother, and his father. She regretted that she hadn't been able to give him these things.

She regretted her failure as a mother.

As _his_ mother.

Luke lifted her hand from her lap and gripped it between both of his. He pressed his lips to the clammy, bare skin of her knuckles, and she glanced at him briefly to offer him a watery smile in gratitude. Once she turned her gaze back to her son, his eyes were no longer on her, but were instead narrowed balefully upon his uncle.

In that moment, Leia was _sure_ that he would raise the alarm; that he would call upon the First Order for their capture.

Instead, his head snapped towards the large entrance doors, the room quieted completely, and Leia watched as his whole face took on a—albeit guarded—look of adoration and awe.

Leia knew, suddenly and completely, that he was already lost to Rey—for who else but the bride could quiet a gathering such as this?—and she was filled with an immense measure of _hope_ for the soul of her son.

For what else but love could pull a man such as him from the dark?

If love could save her father, perhaps it could save her son as well.

Her love had failed. Luke's had failed. Han's loving sacrifice at the hands of his son had only put a dent in the armor surrounding the young man…

But Rey?

Perhaps _she_ was the answer to the galaxy's—to _Leia's_ —prayers.

* * *

Rey clutched Tivona's arm even tighter with her own as the large doors to the great hall were slowly opened before them. She breathed deeply in an effort to quell the anxiety rising within her, and cast her eyes down to focus on the pattern of the cloak draped across her other arm. The purple cloth was stitched with a silver heart and crown, the sigil of the Ammiel family—the _royal_ family.

She was never more grateful for the loose structure of her wedding gown than in that moment. She had heard stories from some of the ladies of the court over the past month, of how they had felt they could hardly breathe in the tight confines of their own wedding gowns. Tivona had smiled fondly before leaning in to whisper to Rey that she had made the gown's stays loose for that exact reason. All Rey had been able to offer was a weak smile of thanks.

Her mind had hardly rested in the month that had passed since the wedding. She had been consumed with thoughts of the upcoming ceremony, of the groom himself, of the _wedding night_ , and of what their life together would be like afterwards.

They were enemies, after all, she and him.

It did not matter that their respective governments were becoming allies— _No._

It _did_ matter.

Rey had agreed to the match for the sake of her people, for the safety of her system and the hundreds of planets who were allied with Itamar. She had done this for them, and she _must_ follow through to the best of her abilities, in order to gain the most possible from this.

She would be likely be married to him for a long time—she may as well try for some happiness of her own in the years to come. Going into this marriage and treating him as an enemy would run counter to that. She would not be able to sway him that way. She would not be able to reach out to him.

And _Force,_ how she wished she could change him.

He had already shown her, told her, how much he wanted her. No matter how much that thought had made her blush in the last weeks, she had not shied away from it. She needed to use that fact. And… well, in the privacy of her own mind she could admit to being as fascinated by him at times as he was by her.

"Rey, you're flushed and looking down," Tivona's whispered voice intruded on her thoughts, pulling her from them with a suddenness that almost startled. "Push your shoulders back and look up." Her aunt, ever practical, had been by her side, instructing her, nearly every moment of the last month. Rey wouldn't have made it without her.

Casting a quick, small smile her way, Rey whispered a short thanks to her aunt, and then looked ahead, squaring her shoulders as ordered.

She took her first step into the hall, the skirt of her dress swishing softly around her slippered feet. All eyes had turned towards her, and Rey was suddenly glad that her aunt had insisted on the subtly-stated wealth of her wedding gown. Although Rey would have been just as proud to have worn her threadbare scavenging clothes to the wedding, she suddenly realized that there was more at stake than _her_ reputation. Rey was the representative of her family to the nobles of Itamar dressed in their elaborate and colorful finery, and she was the representative of her people to the dignitaries amassed here from all of the allied worlds. Rey didn't care about embarrassing herself, but her family, her people… no.

She couldn't— _wouldn't—_ do that.

The white gown consisted of a simple strapless silk sheath that flowed along the lines of her body, tight enough around the chest that it wouldn't fall, but just loose enough until it flared out in a puddle of fabric from her hips to her toes. Covering the entirety of the sheath, and the skin up to her collarbone and down the entire length of her arms, was a dainty lace layer with seed pearls sewn throughout. The pearls were a match to the net that bundled her brown locks together, pinned to a braid that spanned the crown of her head.

The pearl net had belonged to her mother, and her mother before that, Miron had told her just yesterday when he had gifted Rey with it. He had tears in his eyes at the mention of his deceased sister, and Rey had cried with him, face buried in his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her.

He had told her to be strong, and that she could still back out if she so chose.

Rey had simply wrapped her own arms around him and hugged him tightly.

The eerily-silent crowd standing to either side formed the aisle she and Tivona walked down, their gazes following them—following and _judging_. She held herself proudly, eyes straight ahead, ignoring all whom she passed.

The only time she spared a glance to the side was to glance up and to her left to gaze upon the king in his balcony, her uncle at his side. Both men met her eyes briefly, her grandfather inclining his head towards her, and her uncle offering a small smile. The sight of both men seemed to bolster her resolve, and she was able to walk the remainder of her trip down the aisle with a confident edge to her gait.

It was only as she traversed those last few feet of the crowd that she looked up and met Kylo's piercing brown gaze.

What she saw within made her previously smooth and confident gait falter just a hair. Enough so that her aunt stiffened the arm that was linked with Rey's right one.

Rey hardly noticed, paying no mind to where her feet were leading her, letting her aunt guide her movements. Her eyes were locked on Kylo's and the raw emotion she saw within them.

She hadn't seen him in just over a month, but the instant their gaze reconnected it was as if no time had passed at all since that last encounter—the encounter where he had whispered that he wanted her, marriage or no. The same thrill that had traversed her spine so many weeks ago was currently finding its home again.

But that want wasn't the only thing she saw in his eyes.

She also saw possessiveness and a carnal appreciation for the sight before him… and a softness that she doubted he even knew he was broadcasting it.

That softness, more than anything else, scared her.

The only thing that stopped her from running from the hall was that a part of her, deep within her, which she had only ever shown to herself… that part of her resonated with what she saw in his eyes.

Tivona nudged her discretely and only then was Rey able to break the draw of Kylo's gaze.

Realizing that she had missed the entire first part of the officiant's speech, Rey cast about quickly within her mind for the appropriate response. The officiant had asked her if she came to this marriage of her own free will.

She met the silver-haired woman's eyes and spoke, loudly and clearly, the words, "I give myself freely to this joining."

Rey felt, more than saw, the last bit of tension draining from the way Kylo had been holding himself.

"Who bears witness for the princess?" the woman intoned.

"As her godmother, I bear witness," Tivona announced calmly.

"Does the princess come freely to this joining?"

"She does."

The officiant bowed slightly to Rey, and then to Tivona, and the latter dropped Rey's arm after squeezing it lightly one last time. She stepped over to stand beside the officiant, turning to face her niece and the rest of the gathered crowd.

"Do you, Kylo Ren, prince of the Organa family of Alderaan, come freely to this joining?" The officiant angled herself slightly toward the dark-haired man standing no more than four feet to Rey's left.

"I give myself freely to this joining," he enunciated clearly, staring straight at the officiant. Rey's eyes were glued to his features, however, and she could not seem to break her gaze from him.

"Who bears witness for the prince?" she repeated.

A red-haired man on the other side of Kylo drew Rey's gaze as he spoke the words, "As his co-commander, and as general of the First Order, I bear witness."

Rey's eyes widened slightly. She had only ever seen pictures of him. So _this_ was the general? The man who had… She clenched her eyes shut briefly as she listened to the rest of the words, reminding herself that now was _not_ the time or place to start a brawl—much as she might like to. When she opened her eyes, the general was standing on the other side of the officiant from her aunt Tivona. She avoided meeting his eyes as she brushed over him, finally settling her gaze on the officiant once again.

"Princess U'Rey, you may now cloak the groom and bring him within the fold of your family."

Rey looked down at the cloak for a moment, trying to gather herself—trying to gather her breath and her courage. This was it. This was the most important part of the ceremony, no matter what words were spoken afterwards.

Resolving herself, gritting her teeth just slightly, she turned towards Kylo, only to be met with his back. He had knelt down before her, facing away, something he was _not_ required to do.

He was… this _warrior_ was giving her back, and bending knee to her?

Rey let a small puff of air pass her lips in startlement. She glanced at her aunt with wide eyes, and the dark-haired woman twitched her hand at her side as if telling Rey to get on with it.

Turning back to Kylo, who was waiting with surprising patience, Rey gripped the cloak and let it unfurl before her. She stepped forward and reached over his shoulders and around his neck so that she could fasten it at his throat as she spoke the simple words. "With this cloak you gain the protection and name of the Ammiel family. You will be one of us, treated with respect, honor, dignity and l—love." She stumbled over that, but quickly regained her voice. "But your roots will not be forgotten, and will in fact be remembered always, in our halls, in our chambers, in our home, and in the blood of our—of our children.

"Stand, and be acknowledged as family—as my husband—with the acceptance of this ring." Her aunt stepped forward swiftly and placed the antiqued silver ring into her waiting palm. Her hands were quivering so much that it took her two tries to close her fingers around the object.

He should have looked ridiculous in the purple and silver of her family cloak, but as he stood and turned to face her, Rey's mouth went dry. He looked… he looked _regal_. He looked as if he were _born_ to the nobility, born to rule—he looked like he belonged in one of the classic paintings adorning the walls of her newfound home. As if sensing her thoughts, he stared intensely out at her from beneath a fallen fringe of his black hair, which paired better with the royal purple than she had imagined it would.

And oh, she had imagined it _many_ a time.

His left hand was held out before him, and she slowly lifted her own left hand to grip his wrist, fingers not even able to meet as they formed a circle around it. His hot skin nearly caused her to jolt backwards as her bare flesh met his, but she controlled herself enough that she was able to slip the ring over his fourth finger without dropping it.

She dropped his large hand as soon as she could, however, and turned as quickly as she could to face the officiant once again.

Soon enough, she was turning her back to Kylo—her knees refused to bend, even if she felt it was unfair to him—and he was placing the dark blue and white cloak over her shoulders. His fingers brushed against her throat, nearly stealing her ability to breathe, and nearly whiting out the sound of his voice as he spoke the words.

They weren't what he was supposed to say.

"With this cloak you gain the legacy of the Organa family, but the protection I offer is entirely mine to give. You gain the protection of my body, my mind, and all the resources at my disposal, for as long as you will have me. With this cloak, I vow to be yours, to be one with your family, and to treat them and you with respect and honor, and to love and cherish any… any children that we may have. I vow to listen as much as I am able, to be a good protector to your people, and I come to you with the hope that one day you will look upon me the same way I do you."

The hall was completely silent. It was as if everyone had suddenly forgotten how to breathe. His words… they went above and beyond the traditional male vows. He had… he had declared himself as more than her groom—he had declared himself as _hers_.

Rey turned around slowly as he bid her with his next words, her eyes wide and staring into his. "Be acknowledged as mine, as I am yours, with the acceptance of this ring."

He did not reach for her hand; he simply held his out, palm up, and waited for her to place her hand in his—her small hand swamped by his much larger one—before slipping the silver band, dotted with sapphires and diamonds, over the finger of her left hand. Rey dropped her eyes to their joined hands, and wondered briefly at where he could have found such a beautiful, but simple and elegant, wedding band. Was it… was it from… was it Leia's? It seemed to fit the stately woman's style exceedingly well, and was slightly loose on her finger, as if it had once belonged to less slender fingers.

Rey was pulled from her thoughts with the single, loud clap of the officiant's hands and the raised voice directed to the crowd. "Now, all who are gathered here today shall bear witness as the bride and groom exchange kisses, sealing their lives fully and finally as one."

And with those words, Kylo tugged on the hand that he had yet to relinquish, trapping it and her other hand between their bodies as his other hand curled around her and flattened over the lace between her shoulders, pressing her even more firmly against his body.

She barely had time to take a breath, let alone release it in protest— _this wasn't what was supposed to happen!_ —before his lips descended on hers, hot and moist and oh, so soft.

He kept the kiss chaste, and gentle, but the way that he pressed his body against hers, and moved his lips against her own, was anything _but_. The heat of his body seemed to leech into and suffuse her own, elevating the flow of her blood to a simmer which she had only ever felt that one time she'd walked into a back room of the bar at Niima, interrupting… well, what she had interrupted she had never forgotten.

This… this was like _that_.

And _more_.

Rey found herself giving into the kiss, moving her lips softly, experimentally, against his, exploring the feel of him beneath her lips—the feel of a _real_ kiss swiftly supplanting the memories of the few kisses she'd had before.

It was hot, it was moist, it was _real_ , and it was making her blood boil as her body slowly relaxed against his, molding her softness into the hardness of him. Everywhere they touched, via skin or through layers of cloth, burned in Rey's senses.

It was only when she felt his mind brush against hers as it had done so many months ago that she pulled herself gasping from his mouth, pushing herself only as far away as she could within the tight confines of his arms.

This was… this was _Kylo Ren_. She should not— _could not_ —surrender herself completely to him. She may have to lie with him, but that did _not_ mean she had to give herself over entirely; heart, body, soul, and mind.

She stared up at him, confused and flushed, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she tried to regain control. Rey needed to regain the upper hand, and fast.

"You…" she began softly, then said it loudly enough that at least those in the front of the crowd could hear, "You were supposed to kiss my _hand_ , and I yours. Not… not _that_!" Her voice was hoarse and cracked at the end, sending a blush skittering across her cheeks, down her neck, and across the top of her chest. She could _feel_ it.

Kylo's cheeks quickly flushed a soft pink that likely reached the ears buried beneath his hair. For a moment, he seemed at a loss, even embarrassed.

But Rey watched, eyes widening with every moment, as he quickly firmed his expression once again, pulled her towards him, and bent his head towards hers.

The words he spoke were only loud enough for her to hear, "I may as well start with how I plan to go about this marriage," before he crashed his lips against hers for the second time in as many minutes.

* * *

 **Note: Yes, I did borrow inspiration from Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire's marriage ceremonies with the cloaking, though I'm sure that Martin drew inspiration from existing cultures as well! The rings and black/white clothing of the bride and groom are from modern culture, but everything else was just sort of drawn hodgepodge from my mind in an effort to create something that seemed original and not a shadow of any existing religious ceremony. Hopefully it worked out alright!**

 **There are two pieces of amazing art created by the amazing (as always) panda-cappuccino on Tumblr. One of Rey's wedding dress, which I already mentioned at the top, and one of the first kiss... oo la la! You can find them by searching for the tag 'Mitzvah' on my Tumblr, juuls.**

 **Y'all know what's coming up next chapter...**

 **For those interested, I also updated Codega with chapter 20 today. Last chapter was yummy... ;D**

 **I am reading every one of your comments and loving every single one... Thank you so much everyone. I will reply soon. FF net is being annoying and not giving proper notice of when someone reviews, or even when the author updates. So sorry everyone! I promise ily. xoxo**


	10. Chapter 10

**Note: Thank you so much to everyone, old fans and new alike, for the overwhelming response to chapter nine - and the rest of this story! You all are so wonderful and I'm glad to have you on this journey with me. :)**

 **This chapter is NSFW. Please take heed. It might seem a little jumbled (I hope not), but Rey has a lot of thoughts and feelings swimming around inside her head and heart, and they all want to be heard. Hope I did alright! The first time around, before the hacking, this chapter seemed to be well-received, so I'm hoping for that again this time! D:**

 **P.S. Extra special thanks to my beta Annaelle for going over this tons of times with me (the first time around, though it bears mentioning again this time *loves*), and to Perry_Downing for providing a second look when I was freaking out that none of it worked. xD Couldn't have done it without either of these ladies. *blows kiss***

* * *

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. The wedding had occurred late in the afternoon, with a reception and dinner that followed soon afterwards. It was pleasant and befitting of both her own and her _husband's_ royal status, she was sure, but she hardly remembered a thing.

Rey wanted the day to be over as quickly as possible.

But at the same time… she wished it could last forever. She wished that time would freeze for everyone except her―or maybe _especially_ for her―and that the night would _never_ arrive.

Rey was barely aware of what was occurring around her, but she was entirely _too_ aware of the lengthening of the shadows marking the passage of time.

She barely remembered the faces of those who passed her by, congratulating her, but she couldn't remove the image of Kylo… of her _husband_ … from her mind. Everywhere she turned, he seemed to be there, perfectly in her line of sight, conversing with Itamaran nobility and foreign dignitaries alike, his eyes flicking to catch hers, always seeming to be aware of exactly when she was watching him. Worst of all, whenever she closed her eyes, all she could see was _him_.

Tivona had stopped trying to get Rey to eat anything more than a small cup of soup and some bread some time after the grand banquet had ended, instead choosing to sit by her niece's side and offer the comfort of her presence, running interference with well-wishers as often as she could.

Rey only truly came fully back to herself for a single moment during the dinner and reception, when her cousin Rany had come careening over to Rey, launching her arms around the Rey's neck where she was seated at the table, and planting a large and enthusiastic kiss on Rey's cheek. Rey let a true smile grace her features as she shifted sideways in her seat and wrapped her arms around the now nine-year-old. Her birthday had only been a few days ago, and the girl was still flush with the ensuing excitement―and from the excitement of a royal wedding.

Soon enough, however, the girl was gone, and Rey retreated a little further back into herself.

She wasn't _scared_ , per se… no. Well, yes. If she was honest with herself, and she always tried to be, Rey _was_ scared. There were a lot of unknowns about the future, but she was more focused on the unknowns of _this_ night. Yet she was also afraid of what she _knew_ was waiting for her.

This man, who was supposed to be her enemy, who still was, really… he was now her husband.

And with that came certain obligations.

She _knew_ all of this going into the marriage, had agreed to it all knowing full-well what she was getting into. What she would have to do for her people. She knew that there was a certain expectation of consummation for marriages―Tivona and she had spoken of the topic enough, though Rey had shied away from the particulars… something she regretted, now.

She hated going into something without a full arsenal of knowledge at her disposal.

But here she was, and she didn't know everything, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Not anymore.

She could hold off on the act for the night―she could _make_ Kylo Ren agree if he didn't at first seem inclined to―but she knew that there was the likelihood that his _master_ would see that nothing had occurred.

Rey didn't want to give the First Order _anything_ that would act as grounds to annul the marriage and potentially destroy her system and her people.

She'd come too far for that.

Plus… well. There was the expectation of heirs.

Rey's stomach clenched at that thought, and she was glad for the fact that she hadn't eaten much of anything this evening. Her aunt had told her weeks ago, and since, that she was the last heir in a clean line of succession. It had been Maker-sent that they had found her alive after having lost her all those long years ago, because otherwise the system would likely have been plunged into civil war when distantly-related cousins of the king claimed the throne and fought over it upon her grandfather's death.

No.

No, she couldn't let that happen after having done so much already to save them from the First Order and other threats. She had done too much to ensure their safety, and would do even more still, for the system to be thrown into war without an heir.

Worse yet, Kylo Ren―and whoever pulled his strings―would have a claim on Itamar if he outlived her. A flimsy one, but one that he could enforce through might alone―and he would win.

That simply wasn't an option. She couldn't _let_ it be an option.

Rey was startled out of her thoughts when her aunt wrapped her fingers around Rey's hand. She let herself be tugged to her feet even as she slowly blinked her eyes and lifted her gaze to the man standing before her.

Kylo Ren. Her _husband_.

As he bowed to her and held out his hand, she realized the most important thing about tonight.

Letting a small smile grace her lips―one with a hard edge to it―Rey placed her hand in her husband's and let him link her arm with his as he escorted her through the hushed crowd. He was silent, and so was she, even as they walked the halls together towards her suite. There was nothing she could think of to say, and nothing she could truly imagine him saying to her.

Not at this moment, at least.

 _The most important thing_ , she repeated to herself as her body shivered at his close proximity, his strides slower so as to account for her dress, _is that I cannot let fear rule me. If I don't do this tonight, I never will._

 _And I must._

Kylo dropped her arm in order to open the door for her, and she hesitated, her eyes darting quickly down the hall in either direction. There was no one there; no one except her and her new husband… her enemy. She was about to be even more vulnerable in front of him, in her rooms, near her― _their_ ―bed, weaponless and… _bare_.

Kylo placed his hand on the small of her back, but did not attempt to instigate any further sort of physical contact. He simply left it there, his fingers still, but seeping heat and sparks into her body, sending her heart racing with the memory of his hands on hers, his arms around her body… and his lips crashing against hers over and over…

She flushed and hurried inside, stepping quickly away from the man and towards her dining table, where a vase of cut flowers was placed in the middle. It hadn't been there before, but what had truly drawn her eye was a folded piece of paper and a small, hinged wooden box with an unlocked lock resting beside it.

Rey kept an eye on Kylo through her peripheral vision, still hesitant to let him out of her sight. She shifted slightly to reassure herself that her lightsaber was still in its place in the ankle rig she'd made herself. It was harder to keep an eye on the man as he paced slowly through her rooms, but she cast her mind out lightly with the Force so as to keep track of his movements. She would _not_ be taken by surprise.

The note was short, but to the point, and made Rey's heart swell with affection.

 _Rey._

 _You looked radiant today. I was glad to be here, though of course I am saddened by the circumstances that brought this about._

I'm sorry that I could not stay for the reception, but you understand why.

I've left you a little something since I wasn't sure if you had access to it.

You'll hear from us soon, I promise you that.

L.

Leia had left this for her. _Leia_ had been here for the wedding. She hadn't sensed the woman, but she also hadn't been actively looking. There had been… other things on her mind, to say the least. But the important thing was that she had _come_. She had been here, for Rey, and that meant the world to her. She had likely been here to see her… her _son_ be married, as well, but Rey couldn't even begin to guess at what that had been like for the older woman.

It would have been _hard_.

Rey clenched her eyes shut tightly, but briefly, willing those thoughts away, and then set the note down so that she could look inside of the box.

Inside were―

Rey shut the lid with a snap, cheeks flushing heatedly, and felt Kylo come to an abrupt standstill a few steps behind her. She looked over her shoulder, and there he was, looking straight at her from the entranceway to her… _their_ bedroom.

She looked back down and shoved the box further towards the flower arrangement.

It was birth control.

She'd considered it before. Earlier. She knew she could take it and pretend she wasn't, and be childless for years before choosing to finally bear a child; an heir.

"You should take it," his voice said from over her shoulder as he strode towards her at a ground-eating pace.

Rey whirled around, only to back into the table because he was already closer to her than she'd expected. "Take what?" She was proud that her voice didn't quaver, though her eyes were a little wide.

"I know what those boxes are. The manufacturer produces birth control in quick-acting, single-use pills, good for two days at a time." His features revealed nothing about what he thought of the topic. "You should take it," he repeated.

Rey felt her body heat up in a blush at the implication of his words. "I… you… but I need to…" She couldn't find the right words, and her tongue felt clumsy in her mouth.

Kylo closed in even more, lifting his left hand to trail the backs of his fingers over her cheek, the ring on his finger cool against her hot skin. He touched her nowhere else, but it _felt_ like he was. "You might have a duty to your people… _Rey_." The way her name rolled off of his lips did something funny to Rey's breathing. "But I have a duty to _you_. You're too young for a child. It can wait. It can wait until you're ready. If you ever are."

Rey knew he was right. She felt herself relax, shoulders drooping, and a long, shuddering breath passed her lips. He was right, and it was such a relief to hear it from him. It was also quite surprising. That he was looking out for her own well-being, when there was no reason for him to, left her with a light, pleasant feeling. This, more than anything else, showed that he _cared_ ―not just that he wanted or desired her. She had received that message loud and clear, odd as that might make her feel. But to have proof that he honestly cared for her, that he would protect her and watch out for her well-being…

It was mind-boggling, honestly. It made her want to open up to him a little more, despite their history together, but it also confused her. He was her enemy… why would he care? Why would he want her, even? It seemed to go beyond the physical, and that was the part that Rey was having the most trouble with.

He gripped her chin in his hand, though his touch was surprisingly gentle, and made sure that she met his eyes with her own. The golden brown of his irises were darkening, and she couldn't look away. "We don't even have to do this tonight," he murmured. "There is no rule stating that we must." He stared at her, as if waiting for her to say something, but she had no idea how to respond.

Not right then. All of her earlier logic had deserted her.

Kylo bent until his mouth brushed against her jaw line, hot breath causing gooseflesh to erupt all over her body. She shivered as he spoke, his lips ghosting against the shell of her ear. "Of course, I have told you that I _do_ want you, Rey," he whispered. "But I will not have you unwilling or forced."

Rey stilled at that. Her body froze as she took in his words, mulling them over in her mind. She had heard them before, but now… now she really _thought_ about what he was saying; what he meant.

Obviously reading the expression on her face correctly, Kylo pulled himself up and slightly away from her, wanting to give her the time and space necessary for her to think.

He… he _wanted_ her. She'd never really been wanted before. Not like this. No, _never_ like this. There had been men, and even women, who had eyed her back on Jakku, when she'd grown to maturity―and some before that, she remembered with a shudder. But none had ever looked at her like _this_ , and for seemingly more than her body. She'd never felt a connection spark between them and course through her body the way it was doing now; the way she felt every time his hands made contact with her, or even when their gazes met. She'd never had someone want her… and for her to want them in return.

It was frightening.

Exceedingly so. Yes, she'd felt desire before―but only fleeting. A kiss viewed across a room, the way a couple danced together at one of the festivals she had rarely attended, and the simple appreciation of the clean and well-groomed men back on the Resistance base. She had touched herself on occasion, but never with a clear image in her mind.

Now… well, now she could easily imagine touching herself to the mere memory of the way Kylo's lips had crashed over hers earlier that day. And that was scarier than most other things she had faced―but also _exhilarating_.

She _did_ want him, but how could she ever tell _him_ that? How could she ever allow herself to be so vulnerable around him? Once he knew… surely he would hold it over her and be able to control her with that knowledge?

Would it be worth it?

Rey finally found her voice, her heart racing. "We… we must. Your… someone could find out that we never did, and then my people will be in danger… And all of this would be for nothing." She clenched her eyes shut, as well as her fists.

Moments later, both of her fists were caught in his large hands. He did not grip them tightly or try to force them apart; he simply rubbed his thumbs over the backs of her hands.

Was he trying to soothe her?

Rey's mind reeled at the thought. His hands on hers felt good, soothing her frayed nerves… but also inciting new ones to flare up in their stead. Excitement replacing fear. And that excitement… she was confused. So _confused_. She didn't know what she wanted, or if she was _allowed_ to want this… to want what he was offering; what his body language and his touches and his _kisses_ promised…

Kylo pulled back and looked down at her, his eyes hardening. She pulled herself sluggishly from her scattered thoughts so that she could focus. "Not good enough. That is the same as force. It's coercion. Manipulation. I won't have it. I don't want anything else besides you, willingly coming to my bed."

Rey felt a jolt that rushed down her spine and straight to her core, and her body heated up at the words. She closed her eyes again, and shook her head slightly. Her body was betraying her… she couldn't _think_ properly with him so near. But she tried, and managed to form her next words coherently. "I can't let my fear control me. I need to do this. I _need_ to."

Kylo stilled and paused. "Still not good enough," he finally said. "That's all very well and good, but it's not the same."

Rey jerked herself away from him abruptly, turning her head to the side though he would not let go of her hands. Liquid rage rushed through her veins as she glared at him. It was quick to occur, but that was no surprise. This was _Kylo Ren_ ― he was bound to make her angry at some point. "What did you _expect_? I was basically _forced_ into this to avoid war—did you really think I'd be _happy_ about having to jump into your bed? I am trying to convince myself to do this, and none of my reasons are ' _good enough_?'

"You want it all, don't you?" she said, quieter than before, though still angry. She barely registered the shock on his face before his features slipped into a careful blankness. Was he hurt by what she said? No matter. She couldn't find it in her to go easy in this moment―she needed this release; needed to get what she thought and felt off of her chest. This had all been held inside her for too long, ever since she'd first learned about the betrothal and, even though she'd agreed of her own free will, she wanted so badly to blame him for all of this; to blame him for the situation she had found herself in. She had found happiness in a family she'd never thought she'd have, and then to have that threatened? To know that the only way she would be allowed to stay with her family without her people becoming endangered was to marry this man, her enemy, and honor the contract?

"You want it all," she repeated, her voice slower and calmer than before as she accepted that there was nothing she could do to change what had happened. It was in the past now, and she could only move forward―she'd have to do the best with the hand that she had been dealt… and had agreed to. "You want everything from me, until you consume me and I am yours, fully and irrevocably." Rey sounded resigned by the end of her accusation; she was tired.

But there was a little part of her, deep inside, that thrilled at the thought of being so consumed by this man. He alone had this power over her…

"I want it all," he agreed quietly, finally breaking his silence. Rey's eyes darted to meet his, only somewhat surprised that he so readily agreed. "But I also want to _be_ consumed, Rey. I've dreamed about you, about _us_ , together. If I were to get lost in anyone, I would want it to be you."

Rey would have laughed at the ridiculous words if she hadn't seen how serious his gaze had become. Her breath caught in her throat. Was he telling her the truth? If he wanted to be lost _with_ her, together, and not just consume her alone… was that so bad?

He leaned back in towards her, and this time he brushed his lips over hers. He moved slowly, giving her ample opportunity to retreat, but she couldn't move―didn't _want_ to move. His lips against hers were so light that she barely felt the kiss, but her body reacted as if it had been the full press of his mouth to hers. She shivered, her fists twitching in the grasp of his hands.

"Ah, there it is," he murmured with a hint of smugness. "I know that you are attracted to me. Just admit it… admit it and I'll take care of you tonight, Rey. I'll take care of you for more than tonight. For as many nights, or mornings, or _days_ as you want." He paused again. "It will eat me alive if I can never have you, but this is the only way I will accept having you."

He let out a huff of laughter, and Rey's eyes shot open. "Plus," he said, leaning back a little, "this way I will have the satisfaction of knowing that you gave in to me."

Rey's eyes flashed and she pulled her fists from his grasp, ready to punch him straight in the―

He gathered her up in his arms, pulled her against him, and covered her lips with his own. It was deeper than before, more consuming, more powerful, more… more _everything_. Kylo moved his lips over hers, his arms holding her tightly even as his hands started to skim over the material covering her back, and even over the bare skin of her neck. Soon, he parted her lips, tongue dipping inside, and Rey's eyes widened even further as she stiffened. Kylo opened his eyes, met hers, and then lowered his lids again, changing the tempo of his kiss to something more soothing… but just as possessive. Rey could only react, not act, and she found herself barely able to keep up with the sensations flooding her body and confusing her mind.

One of his hands drifted down her body, curved over the slight flare of her hip, and then cupped the soft swell of her behind. She stiffened, but then sunk into the touch, relaxing her body, giving in to the sensations being pulled from deep within her, burning her up from the inside… and Rey finally closed her eyes, giving in fully.

He groaned, deep in his throat, his lips and tongue wreaking havoc on Rey's ability to think, until finally he pressed the back of her legs into the table, leaned into her, and she was faced with more evidence than she needed that he was aroused; that he _liked very much_ what they were doing.

Rey wrenched her lips away from his, panting heavily as she tried to catch her breath―and her faculties. She lifted one of her shaking hands and pushed against his chest, wanting him to give her some space.

He gave it to her, stepping one full step back, his own breathing nearly as ragged as hers.

She took some comfort in that.

"Rey…" he entreated after she was silent for too long.

She looked at him through her lashes, still breathing hard.

"It doesn't need to be so complicated," he continued. He turned his back on her, for what reason Rey had no idea. Perhaps he needed to regain some control of his own.

"But it is," she began.

"No. It doesn't need to be," he interrupted. "We can do our duty, seal this marriage as is expected, so that no one can cry foul… but we can pretend we're nothing more than a man and a woman. No sides. No names. Just pleasure. After tonight, if you never want to touch me again, or I you, you have only to say the words and I will leave you alone." He fell silent after that, but Rey had still heard that thread of sadness in his words.

He might say that now, but Rey knew… she just _knew_ that as soon as he had a taste of her, a taste of what he wanted… there would be no way he would ever let that go if he continued to want her.

Kylo would have a claim on her, and he would wear her down. It might take years, but he would win.

Rey knew it.

Just as she knew that there was a part of her that wanted him to win; a part of her that wanted to give in for the night. She had resigned herself to her duty, to the consummation, earlier. But he had thrown those reasons out the window. At least, he had told her he would not accept those reasons.

If she had been so ready to do her duty out of some sense of honor, why could she not do the same… but because of pleasure? Because she wanted it?

Because she _did_.

There was nothing to stop her. No reason to say no. He was her husband, and at least she was attracted to the man who filled the position. He might be her enemy, but he didn't have to be. At least not here. Perhaps… perhaps if she gave in a little, she might be able to get something out of him in turn. Not even anything political. Not yet. No… she could find her pleasure just as surely as he would. He could teach her. She could let him. She _wanted_ him.

What was there to say no to?

"Yes," she finally choked out.

He whirled around, coat flaring around his thighs. "'Yes' what?" he practically growled.

Rey licked her lips and ran her sweaty palms over her dress, only stopping when she realized the top layer was lace covered with seed pearls. She looked him straight in the eye as she answered. "Yes, I want you. At least… at least for tonight," she whispered.

But he heard her plain as day.

A flush barely had time to start spreading across her cheeks before Kylo was upon her, lifting her into his arms in a bridal carry, tossing the box from the table onto her belly, and carrying her into the bedroom. "Take one of those," he ordered.

Rey opened the box to take out one of the packets, opening it and dissolving the tablet under her tongue after a frantic moment of trying to figure out what to do with it. Kylo set her down beside the bed with its turned-down sheets and blankets, pulled the box from her hands, and dropped it to the floor where it landed with a muffled thud on the carpet.

He kicked it under the bed.

Rey swallowed, both out of nervousness and with the need to get rid of the slight aftertaste in her mouth. She looked at him for a moment before turning her back to him, presenting him with the nearly-invisible zipper hidden beneath careful folds in the fabric.

"Are you sure, Rey?" she heard him ask.

"Shh, no names. Not tonight," she pleaded softly. She knew it was Kylo. Would always _know_ it was Kylo here with her, touching her… but she wanted to keep the illusion going for as long as she could.

"Are you sure?" he repeated after a moment. She could feel the presence of his hands hovering near the closure.

"Yes," Rey breathed. "I…"

"Yes?" he asked, his voice hoarse and tight with need, with desire. Desire for _her_.

"I've never done this before," she mumbled quickly, embarrassment flooding through her. She hadn't wanted to admit this to _him_ of all people, but… No names, she reminded herself. He wasn't Kylo; he wasn't her enemy tonight.

Kylo went still behind her, and Rey couldn't even begin to guess what was going through his mind. She held herself still as well, waiting for him to move, to do something… _anything_.

"I'd hoped," he finally said, softly. "I… I would have been alright with it either way, but… I had hoped." Rey drew in a soft breath and a thrill shot down her spine at the emotion in his voice. At the _need_. "You see, R―" He stopped himself just in time, but stepped in closer to her, nearly touching her everywhere with his body as he framed her from behind. She could _feel_ the heat coming off of him, he was so close.

"You see…" he started again, bringing a hand up to start to pull the pins out of her hair that were holding up her mother's pearl hair net. Rey shivered at even that bare amount of contact. "I am a jealous man by nature. I would respect your choices made in the past, but honestly? I am glad that you will be and _are_ wholly mine. By law… by vows… body, mind… perhaps even heart and soul one day if you will give it to me. If you will give it _all_ to me, as I will give my all to you." He carefully pulled the hair net from her tresses, leaving Rey standing stock-still, her body trembling with more than just nerves, as he set the piece on the bedside table closest to them.

He turned back towards her, and they were both facing each other now. "And I can't deny that it brings me great pleasure to _teach_ you what you might not already know. I will go carefully with you…" She could tell he wanted to say her name, but he restrained himself. "But you need to tell me what you like and don't like, and tell me if you want me to stop. Yet know that I won't hurt you; that you can trust me." He waited, steps away from her, as if he were waiting for her to say something.

Finally, she swallowed and spoke, once more. "I don't know why, but I trust you," she admitted quietly. "I trust you with this, at least."

"That's all we need for now… princess." He flashed her a devastating smile to go along with his words, and Rey's lips parted with a soft gasp at the effect the title had on her in this setting… it was as if it was an endearment, not a title. No… not even that. It was… it was as if it meant something entirely more.

Something _sensual._

His eyelids lowered even further, and he looked at her with a deep hunger that Rey could feel mirrored within her. She… she _needed_ him. She desired him. "Come undress me," she ordered, trying to inject her words with confidence and perhaps only slightly succeeding.

He obeyed her anyway.

Rey had no problem with nudity, with being around others while they or herself were naked. She'd had to grow used to it, and had never thought it odd before in her life. Yet as his hands unzipped her dress, and slowly, achingly, undressed her, Rey found herself embarrassed for the first time in as long as she could remember. What if he didn't like the way she looked? What if he preferred another sort of woman? What if… what if she wasn't _good enough_?

"Oh Force, you're beautiful." Those four words snapped Rey out of her panicked spiral, stopping her descent into insecurity and infusing her with hope and a rush of heady _pride_ and _confidence_ that she had never felt before.

He pushed the sleeves of her dress past her hands, letting the material catch at her waist briefly before it pooled to the ground around her feet. She could hear as his breath caught, could _feel_ every brush of skin against skin as he trailed his fingers over the supple planes of her back, fingers spreading until his wide hands spanned her hips, palms brushing against the cloth of her panties.

The only thing covering her from his sight.

Well, that and the ankle holster. Rey could tell when he caught sight of it as he let out a little snort of laughter. The sound was pleasant to her ears, but the feel of his hands was even more delightful as they swept down her legs when he knelt at her feet to remove the holster. He placed a kiss against the back of both knees, and Rey had to fight to remain on her feet at the sensation.

Rey felt Kylo place the holster at her feet and she glanced down to ensure her saber was still in its sheath where it lay upon the fabric of her dress.

Before she could say a word, he was on his feet and turning her around to face him, his eyes raking in her form so quickly that she had no chance to lift her hands to cover herself. It wasn't an instinct for her to do so, but―

"Don't you dare," he growled. He reached out and gripped both of her wrists in his hands, pulling them away from where they had been moving to cover her chest.

"Okay," she whispered. She could hardly catch her breath as she watched his eyes roam over her body. She returned his gaze of appreciation, fully intent on not being a passive part of this process, but realized then that he was still wearing―well, _everything_. "You're still wearing your clothes," she accused.

"One moment," he murmured as he bent down to capture her lips. He lingered there for a moment before trailing his lips down her neck, over her collar bone, then over the slopes of her breasts, and…

" _Oh_!" Rey cried out as his lips covered one of her nipples, tongue darting out to flick at the tip. Her hands were still caught in his grasp but she desperately wanted to weave her hands into the shock of dark hair that was pressed against her chest. She struggled for a moment, and then pulled harder against his grip―

―and fell straight back onto the bed, her legs hanging off the edge of the bed, and her eyes wide and startled as she looked up in shock at the man who was staring down at her, one eyebrow raised.

They moved swiftly from there. Rey lifted her hand and pulled him towards her with the Force, his eyes widening as he slid forward on the floor and then teetered over onto his rear on the bed. She'd allowed him enough control to twist around for that, but she was suddenly filled with impatience, her blood pounding through her veins as she leaned over him and attacked his clothes with her fingers. He helped her to remove his clothes, boots, saber, belt, and all, until he was naked before her, kneeling on the mattress just as she was, both of their gazes caressing the other's form with heat and passion.

He was… well, he was _quite_ well-built. She'd only rarely seen a naked man, but from the little she remembered he seemed to be in exceedingly good shape. His muscles were toned and firm, his abdomen toned and tight, and―

Her mouth parted slightly as she released an, "Oh…" from between her lips, her eyes finally settling on the one part of the male body she'd only seen aroused once or twice before―and only from a distance. She reached out towards it with her hand but pulled it back before she could make contact. Her eyes darted up to meet Kylo's hooded ones.

"Here," he said, his voice rough and deep. He rolled onto his back, propping himself up on two pillows, and then reached over to gently grip Rey's hand with one of his own. He pulled her over until she was sitting beside him, legs curled to the side… and then he placed her hand on his cock, covering it with his own. "Touch me," he said, his voice nearly breaking on the words.

And Rey did. His hand dropped away but hers remained. With near-bashful curiosity, she explored the texture of it beneath her fingers; the velvet softness covering the hard shaft beneath. She slowly, carefully, ran her fingers up and down, around the head, around the base, hesitating slightly before swiping her fingers through the bead of moisture at the top, feeling the fluid between her thumb and forefinger before moving down to feel the shape and texture and heft of his sac in the palm of her hand.

She could hardly believe that she was here, with him, and she was able to explore at her leisure. She'd never even imagined a situation like this—never even thought that she would have someone like this beneath her fingertips.

Kylo groaned, flinging his arm over his eyes, but not able to keep it there for long. She knew he wanted to see her. She wanted to see _him_. And here he was, spread before her… and all hers.

 _Hers_.

She'd never had something— _someone_ —that was truly _hers_ before.

"R― _ah_! Stop. Stop, please, or I won't last," he pleaded as he suddenly sat up straight on the bed, both of his hands gripping the one of hers to pull her away from his shaft. He got to his knees and pulled her to hers, pressing their bodies together as he lay claim to her mouth once more. She could feel his hardness against her belly and she reveled in that fact―that _she_ had done this to him.

It was a heady feeling of control and power that spread through her body.

Lips still fused, Rey could feel Kylo lowering her onto her back on the bed, and she moaned into his mouth, hands scrabbling at his shoulders and chest, nails raking the skin beneath them. This was it, he was going to―

She wasn't ready for―

"Breathe," he whispered as he pulled his lips away from hers. "It's not time yet. But you need to _breathe_."

Rey did just that, focusing on pulling in air and slowly releasing it, along with her panic, even as her heart sped up as he lowered his lips to her breast again, mouthing at the delicate skin before lapping at the nipple, then moving languidly over to the other breast and repeating the motion all over again. This time he kept his mouth where it was, however, sealing his lips around her hard peak and eliciting wave after wave of pleasure from her body.

She was wet― _so_ wet.

She could tell just by rubbing her thighs together, by the nearly-ripe feel of her flesh, moist and rubbing deliciously against the soft fabric of her panties that was nearly molded to the juncture of her thighs. She'd been wet before… had even pleasured herself a small handful of times before this… but _this_ … it was so much more than even those few times she'd brought herself to orgasm. Kylo's hands on her body, his lips against her flesh, brought her more pleasure than she'd experienced with her own hands bringing her to completion, and Rey's mind nearly buzzed with that simple fact.

Kylo's hand trailed down her body as he continued to suckle and nip at her breast, sensations chasing down her body along the same path that his hand was taking, until she gasped and arched her back, chest pressed into his face, as he fit his hand between her legs and cupped her _there_.

"Please―" she whimpered. She wasn't able to keep her body still, legs and arms moving slightly in an attempt to relieve the pressure somehow, some _way_ …

"Please what?" he asked, a slight teasing lilt to his voice.

"Please… I… I don't know!" Rey moaned, frustrated. She didn't know what she wanted from him, just knew that she _needed_ something more. "I don't know what to do," she admitted finally. "I don't know what to ask for. And I _hate_ that!" Tears prickled at the corner of her eyes.

Kylo slowly sat up from where he'd lowered himself beside her, peering at her with a mixture of concern and impatience. He moved his hand to her knee, safely away from her core, and Rey felt something relax within her. She was still tense, however, even as his thumb drew small, slow circles upon the skin of her knee, and his other hand lifted to push sweaty strands of hair behind her ear. "Shh, it's alright," he mumbled, somewhat awkwardly, as if the words were foreign on his tongue.

Clenching her eyes tightly shut, she leaned into his palm as he rested it against her cheek, feeling frustrated at the circumstances, but also mad at herself for allowing herself to become so weak and needy and she _never should have agreed to this_ ― _she should have just run away and never looked back, living on her own because it was the only thing she was_ good _at._

"I don't know what to _do_ ," she groaned, bringing one hand up to place over her eyes. "I… this must be awful for you; I'm so sorry." She had no idea why she felt the need to apologize, but it was like she'd lost control. She wasn't herself. She was stronger than this. What was _wrong_? "What's wrong with me?" she asked out loud.

Kylo pulled her hand away from her face, and used the other to tilt her chin towards him. As he started to speak, her eyes opened and met his. "There's nothing wrong with you. You're strong. You're courageous. But there's nothing wrong with not knowing what is about to happen. You've been through a lot. Let me guide you. Let me show you what you want. Just lay back and let me lead." He paused, eyes flickering with something guarded, and then continued, "Unless you want to back out now. Do you?"

Rey stared back at him, deep into his eyes, and let her breathing settle into a much slower and calmer rhythm.

Did she? Did she want to back out now?

No.

No―she'd tasted what was on offer, and she wanted more. She was strong enough to get through this intact. She would still be herself tomorrow, and he would be himself. Two separate beings, who had simply decided to share a night of pleasure. She wouldn't lose who she was.

"No," she said firmly, accompanied by as much of a headshake as Kylo's grip on her chin would allow.

A smile spread quickly across his face―a genuine _smile_ ―and Rey was nearly startled at the sight… and at how her heart felt like it had skipped a beat. "Good," he murmured, then bent to resume his efforts. "Just lie back and let me make you feel good."

And he did. Oh, did he _ever_.

Kylo moved his hands slowly over her body, pulling sensation after sensation from her until she could barely form a coherent thought. His lips followed soon afterwards, soothing her nerves nearly as much as the pleasure that they elicited. He spent most of his attention on the soft swells of her breasts, alternating between cupping them with his hands, teasing them with his fingers, nibbling at her nipples with his teeth, and sucking, licking, pulling until she closed her eyes and groaned, long and loud, and threaded her hands deep into his hair.

She must have pulled too hard because he let out a moan that made her core spark with pleasure, releasing an extra rush of moisture, and made her hips jerk off of the bed instinctually. "Oh _Force_ ," she mumbled. "That feels so good; don't stop."

He made a humming noise against her breast, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through her body, before he pulled back and said, "I have a better idea."

Before she could ask, Kylo trailed kisses down her torso, to her hip bone, and… she tensed, but it was too late for her to say or do anything. He had already hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down and off of her legs, throwing them behind him without even looking.

No, his eyes were trained elsewhere.

Rey tried to clamp her legs together, the red of embarrassment staining her cheeks and chest. _No one_ had ever seen down there. Well, no one except her doctor. It was private―or, it _had_ been. Now, it was on display for him to see, and the hand that he had placed on the hip furthest from him had frozen her to the spot.

The hunger she saw in his gaze as he looked upon the closely-trimmed hair covering her most secret of areas was enough for her heart to start racing again―this time out of anticipation rather than fear.

Without a word, he pulled her legs apart and knelt between them, giving him an even better view. And Rey found herself _wanting_ him to look at her. If he would just keep that heat, that _hunger_ , in his eyes, he could look at her all he wanted. The pleasure clouding her mind was like a drug; the look he was giving her feeding the addiction more and more as time passed.

Again, he said nothing. Rey would have felt uncomfortable with that, but for the fact that he had trailed his fingers gently, slowly, softly over her hip bone, down the crease where thigh met groin, and―oh, _so_ tenderly― brushed his fingers against her mound.

He glanced up as she gasped, catching and holding her gaze for what felt like a lifetime but was mere seconds, and then looked back down, captivated by what he was seeing.

He seemed almost… reverent, and Rey felt like a goddess beneath his gaze.

She couldn't keep her own eyes off of him. Earlier, she had looked her fill of his hard, toned body, littered with scars and moles and light wisps of hair, and now she was watching through hooded eyes what he was doing with his fing―

Oh. _Oh._

Rey gasped again, body arching off of the bed as he slid two fingers over her slit, catching and pulling the moisture of her arousal on his fingers until he dragged it upwards to circle around her clit. She was unbelievably sensitive, and a knife of pleasure stabbed through her. It was sharp and aching, this sensation. She knew to expect that from the little bundle of nerves, but this… this was so much _more_.

Kylo took the opportunity to lean over her body, pressing his lips against hers in a gentle, but deep, kiss as his fingers continued to move over and around her clit, backing off every so often to drag more moisture towards the spot of pleasure.

She was climbing that mountain of sensation that she had felt before under her own fingers, but the way his fingers moved over her flesh, dipping in on occasion, made it feel like the mountain was three times as tall.

And she was climbing it rapidly.

It hit her suddenly, as if from out of nowhere. She came with a shout that was muffled by his tongue delving into her mouth, riding one wave of pleasure, two, three, four… until her body was limp beneath his, trembling, and twitching slightly with small, irregular aftershocks.

When she was able to pull herself together again, she opened her eyes and met his gaze even as he continued to kiss her. The kisses were much softer now; gentler, as if he were attempting to soothe her mind and body alike, tending to her as she came down from her high.

Yet she was still feeling sharp little flashes of pleasure-pain coming from her clit, and she pulled her mouth away from his with a gasp when she realized he was rubbing the head of his cock against her body, catching the hood of her clit every so often and pressing against the exposed bundle of nerves. It was nearly too much, but the sight caused her to moan. She couldn't look away. It was too… it was too… it was too much _something_ that she couldn't name, but she knew that she liked the sight glimpsed down the line of their bodies _very_ much.

If it felt this good on the outside, what would it feel like… on the _inside_?

"I need you," she panted, not caring for once that her voice sounded needy and breathless―weak in her desire. For him. "Please."

He lifted his eyes from where he'd been watching their bodies touching, just as she had been, and locked gazes with her. His body and face had a light sheen of sweat to them, and his hair fell forward to frame his face, casting shadows across his face. But she could still see the scar she had given him.

His scar. _Her_ scar.

She had given him that, and in that moment Rey saw the scar in an entirely different light―as a mark of possession.

The thought sent a thrill through her, and she hooked one of her legs around his waist with a sudden fervor, wanting to take charge―or at least get what she wanted.

Because she wanted him. Inside of her. She didn't know why, fully, but in that moment she _needed_ him moving inside of her, filling her up, and sending her careening up that peak again.

And she wanted to see _him_ moaning in pleasure, knowing that it was _she_ who caused it. Knowing that she could bring him to his knees and he would be hers afterwards. All hers.

His eyes widened at her leg wrapping around his hip, and they widened even further as he caught glimpses of what Rey was feeling and thinking. She couldn't help it that she was easy to read in that moment, and a part of her didn't care.

She wanted this, and she wanted it _now_.

He obliged.

She couldn't help but be aware of exactly who was lining his cock up with her entrance. She couldn't help but be aware that _Kylo Ren_ was sending sparks of pleasure through her body as he pushed just inside of her, the thick head stretching her almost uncomfortably, but pleasure ultimately winning out. She couldn't help but be aware that her enemy― _was he still?_ ―had stilled, pulled her other leg around his waist to hook with her other one, looked up at her for permission with a soft expression, waited for her nod, and then plunged fully inside of her in one quick, sharp movement.

She couldn't help but be aware that he was a man―her _husband_ ―and she was a woman, a girl no longer, his _wife_ , as she let out a loud yelp, followed by a few whimpers of pain which quickly morphed into sighs and gasps of pleasure.

Rey had never been more aware of _herself_ until that moment.

Her nerves felt like they were on fire, some in a bad way, but increasingly being taken over by sparks and licks of flame that were filled her body up entirely with pleasure. The pain and the pleasure mixed, blended, pulsed inside of her body as _he_ moved inside of her. With every stroke he pushed deeper until she was sure he could go no further, but still it seemed he found a way. She was aware of every inch of him within her, pushing and pressing against her inner walls, still sore but receding even more with every stroke, her body and mind already flinging itself towards the crest of her orgasm.

She was aware―how could she _not_ be?―of his gaze locked on hers, one hand braced on the pillow beside her head, arms corded with muscles. He brought the second hand up to push a loose hair off of her sweaty forehead, his pace only stuttering slightly at the movement, before he cupped her cheek with it.

Rey was aware of his thumb caressing her bottom lip, tugging at the flesh and then pushing inside where she flicked against it with her tongue. She was aware of the hitch in Kylo's breathing, the thudding of their hearts as they shared this― _everything_ ―with each other.

And finally, she was aware, more than any of what had just come before, of their minds opening and fusing together as one when she was hurled over the edge and into the most intense orgasm of her life, her walls clenching tightly around his cock in sync with the waves of intense pleasure, her body milking him and plunging him over the edge himself.

In that moment, Rey was aware of everything around her, surrounding her, _inside_ of her, and so was he.

"Kylo! Oh _Force_ , oh _stars_ ―Ky― _Kylo_!" The moan passed her lips before she could stop it.

And right then, even through the haze of pleasure completely overwhelming her, she saw a look of intense satisfaction on his face, his lips quirking upwards. In the heady silence that followed, filled only with the sounds of their deep breaths and their hearts beating furiously, she couldn't think to do anything else besides return his smile and to let her body relax completely into the pillows and mattress. Her eyes fluttered closed against her will, her smile slowly disappearing, and she was aware no more.

* * *

 **Note: Alright! So now you and I are finally caught up to where I was when I'd been hacked. I am unsure as to how I will be moving forward as far as a writing schedule. I will figure something out on that end, but as far as this story goes, pretty much the rest of it is mapped out. I just have to write it! And write it properly, after all this time. I _will_ be continuing this story (that needs to be continued after months and months of inactivity, or over a year since it was started and the notes were drafted) so have no fear of that, but it might take me some time to find a rhythm that suits me and my changed family lifestyle, y'know? I'm primary caregiver to my husband, with my own health problems that impede my writing (peripheral neuropathy and rheumatoid arthritis suck so much, seriously), and throw in motivation and inspiration and blah blah blah, etc etc etc, ad infinitum... You get it. **

**But: This. fic. will. be. finished.**

 **I am SO excited to show you where this goes next. I'm looking forward to exploring the politics and the awkwardness that is bound to ensue from, well... from marrying your enemy and then having everything that happened above... happen. LOL xD Talk about an awkward morning after. Maybe. Possibly. We'll see. ;)**

 **Anyway... much love. To everyone. Old and new alike. This has been an amazing journey. Please, indulge in one of my rec lists (should have at least one on my Tumblr, juuls) or any of my other fics, until I write more of this!**

 **If you read one of my other fics, I am very partial to 'Delicious Ambiguity', which is complete, and 'I'd start a war for you', which will be what I finish first, before any of the rest of my fics. These two are both baby fics, though the latter is a bit of a different take on it. Actually, they both kind of are, because the former is a Force baby fic. hehe**

 **Happy weekend! And until we meet again. Salut et au revoir! Merci, gracias, thank you. *love***


	11. Chapter 11

**Note: Oh. my. word. It's been ages, hasn't it!? I mean, it's been two months since I finished re-uploading this fic to where it had been, and then it was like, I dunno... the end of September when I posted the original chapter 10? October? Either way, it's been too long!**

 **I wasn't even planning to get to this yet. I had planned to finish my other Reylo piece, 'I'd start a war for you', first, but I did a chapter of that yesterday, and then I just felt absolutely pulled towards updating this.**

 **I'll be keeping these as small chapters but will be sitting down with this once a week like I used to do for Codega. So hopefully you'll forgive me the small chapters - and the wait! And hopefully I won't throw this completely off tone since it's been forever. I really hope I don't.**

 **Without further ado... the new chapter!**

 **(Gosh I missed you all.)**

 **Trigger warning: Please note, slight mention of the R word as it pertains to sex, and a very brief and non-graphic use of the word in discussion.**

* * *

She was surrounded on all sides by warmth. The sun was beating down on her, and she smiled as she tilted her head back, keeping her eyes closed and letting the rays soak into her as she took a calming breath. There was a light breeze blowing through her hair, twisting the strands back from off of her face every once in a while when a stronger gust passed over her. The smell of brine permeated the air, and the cries of seagulls could be heard off in the distance, too far off to be an annoyance.

She felt at peace.

Opening her eyes and only squinting lightly, she took in the view around her, smiling as her gaze fell on the two small children making their way up the winding staircase to where she was standing at the top of the hill.

Taking pity on them and their short legs, she started to make her way towards the top of the steps, trailing her hands along the top of the tall grass as she walked along the narrow path winding its way through it.

She quickly hopped her way down the stairs, her long legs making it easy to take the wide steps two at a time, even going downwards.

She was there, waiting for them, as soon as they rounded the first corner upwards, her feet propped up on the rock opposite the bench where she sat. "Hey, shortstuffs! What have you got for me today?" she drawled.

"Ben!" they shouted out in unison as they tossed themselves at her, wrapping their bony arms around her torso and giggling as she reached down and tickled their necks.

What a day…

Wait…

 _Ben?_

* * *

Rey's eyes snapped open, and her entire body went rigid. She had been in… in…

"Yes," a gruff voice spoke up behind her. "You were in my dream, in my memory."

She slowly rolled onto her back. The arm that had been draped over her side and around her middle didn't move, and instead he pulled her more closely towards his chest.

His gloriously sculpted, naked chest.

"I heard that," he said smugly, a smirk playing at his lips, and Rey felt her own lips quirking up in reply.

"Did I say that out loud?" she replied, slightly embarrassed but trying not to let it show.

"No," he said, one eyebrow raising slowly and staring at her as she tried to parse out his meaning.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Rey slammed her mental shields down, recalling the entire reason she'd been woken so quickly from her peaceful slumber. She'd been in his _mind_ , and she hadn't put a stop to it as soon as she'd woken up. She had let herself be distracted, and who knew what Kylo Ren had seen inside of her own mind. Who knew what secrets he'd learned, personal or otherwise – such as military secrets from the Resistance.

"What did you see?" she hissed at him, letting anger suffuse her voice. She knew, in the back of her mind, that this anger wasn't usual for her, but couldn't even begin to force herself to stop. Rey slowly sat up, holding the sheet above her breasts.

It wasn't that she was embarrassed about her body around him – no, it had been a long time since she'd been shy about her naked body. But there was an undeniable intimacy between them now that made it hard for her to display her body to him. It had been easier to face the leering gazes of the males in the bathhouses back on Jakku than it was to let Kylo's eyes roam her body. His gaze… unsettled her, in a way that she'd never thought a man's could. There was something behind the way he looked at her now, something dangerous and _knowing_ lurking behind his eyes…

Kylo didn't try to play stupid. Honestly, he could be ridiculously impetuous, but she had never believed him to be a fool – even on _Starkiller_ when she had seen into his mind, and not even when Finn had told her tales of his infamous tantrums.

"Nothing. I wasn't looking for anything. I was simply enjoying the way your eyes were roaming over me—" his eyes flashed with lust "—and then your thought just brushed up against me, so insistently that I really had no choice but to hear what you were thinking." He grinned, and then pulled himself into a sitting position, arms locked behind him to prop him up, sheets pooling in his lap, displaying the sharp angle of his abdomen as it led towards his—

He laughed, and it was such a relaxed and pleased sound, that Rey was startled into meeting his eyes, her own widening as she saw the mirth held within his gaze. "I didn't need to see into your mind to understand what you were thinking just there, princess," he laughed.

Rey felt her entire upper chest and cheeks flushing, but she didn't turn herself away from him. Instead, she ignored him – as best she could. She turned her nose up slightly, in a move that she'd seen some of the other ladies of court do since she'd arrived. "Why should I believe that you wouldn't look for military secrets? You're a dishonorable man, Kylo Re—"

She let out a little screech as she was suddenly rolled off of the bed and onto the floor, one corner of the sheet trapped between her hip and the inside of Kylo's thigh. He was straddling her, body completely bare as he leaned over her, slowly drawing her hands above her head until he was holding her wrists together in one large palm.

"Be careful, little scavenger, with your words," he breathed against her ear as he leaned down to whisper in it. His other hand was soothing its way down her side, from armpit, past her heaving breasts, down her ribcage… "You wouldn't like what I could do to you," he finished with a growl.

"You wouldn't do that," Rey said immediately, before she could even think. But it didn't make the words any less true, she was startled to realize. When had she started to think there were parts of him that were _good_?

He drew back from her, one eyebrow raised. "Know me so well, already, little Rey?" he asked with a chuckle.

"No," she grumped up at him. Her skin was becoming more and more heated the longer he remained straddling her hips. Especially – she glanced down and then flushed. Nope, that was _not_ her skin. It was his, and it was pressed unbelievably deliciously against the skin of her stomach, trapped between them as he reached down to brush his lips lightly over her cheekbone – and then her lips.

Kylo deepened the kiss, tongue brushing at the seam of her lips until she parted them on a gasp. And it _was_ a kiss; one she just could not help responding to. Whatever differences they had, they certainly did not seem to stretch into the bedroom. She groaned, and worked her lips and tongue against his, savoring in the taste and feel of him against her until he pulled his lips away. She let out a little noise of displeasure, then flushed further.

Her eyes were large when he drew back and met her gaze. He smirked, and then flexed his fingers again around her wrists. "Then why would you believe that of me?" he asked, continuing the thread of the conversation she had lost somewhere between them and the heating of her blood.

Her answer was, again, nearly immediate. Anything to pretend she wasn't being thoroughly distracted by her… her _husband_. "You made sure to get my complete and…" she trailed off, looking for the right word.

"Enthusiastic?" he asked, sitting back a little – not enough to let go of her wrists, she realized – and letting a smile tug at the corners of his lips.

She ignored the suggested word. "You made sure to get my consent last night. It was important to you. You wouldn't use sex as a weapon – let alone… _rape_." She let disgust infuse her tone at the last word, and was pleased to note a corresponding look twist his expression. He felt just as strongly as her on the topic, she was sure. She _knew_ he wouldn't ever do… _that_. Whatever he may be like in battle, he would _never_ use sex as a weapon against Rey – and by this point Rey wasn't even questioning why she was so sure of him and his nature. She simply knew he wasn't that type of man. Yet many on Jakku – male and female alike – had _not_ been averse to using such a thing as that to get what they wanted. It was part of what had led her far and away from Niima Outpost, deep into the surrounding desert plains.

She noticed that his facial features had taken on a serious cast, and his second hand moved from where it had been flattened over her ribs to a place on the floor right beside her head, helping to support some of his weight.

She'd never quite realized how big of a man he really was.

"Then why would you call me dishonorable?" he asked quietly, brow furrowing but his eyes holding hers steadily.

She could tell he was truly curious, but also disturbed by the fact that she would call him such. It slowly dawned on her… "Wait, you're serious?"

"Of course I am," he answered her clearly, but with just the slightest edge of a growl.

She furrowed her own brows at him, looking up and into his eyes as she felt the heat dissipating from her skin. She didn't try to move from underneath of him, letting herself be held where she was. She didn't think she was in any immediate danger, and it was always best to show that someone wasn't getting to you – especially when bringing up a topic that would put you on unsteady ground.

Finally, she spoke. "Well, you were the one who told me you could 'take whatever you wanted,' or some stupid crap like that, for one thing," she said bravely, flippantly. His lips parted, but he didn't say anything, instead letting her continue. She did. "You sure as heck didn't care about honor then when you were trying to get info about BB-8 and the map out of me. And never mind what you did to me!" Her voice rose. "What you did to Poe was completely beyond the pale!" Her breaths were coming in short, sharp bursts, anger taking over her body. But still, she didn't struggle. "So why wouldn't I believe that you would do something like that now?" She glared into his eyes, his features drawing down into a frown.

"We were nothing to each other then, Rey," he said slowly, more calmly than she had ever imagined _Kylo Ren_ speaking. "We were on opposite sides of the war then, enemy combatants, and the issue was time-sensitive. Would you not do the same if you needed information, especially of someone who was a soldier of the other side?"

"We're still on opposite sides of the war!" Rey burst out in response, completely ignoring his question as she felt herself get riled up. She wiggled in his grasp, and he let her wrists go, but did not let her up.

"Are we?" he asked her.

"Are we what?" she replied, consternation filling her voice.

"Are we on opposite sides of the war?" he clarified.

"Yes!" she snapped at him, anger making her skin heat up.

He hummed in response. "Perhaps," he allowed. "Perhaps you and I are, but your system is allied with the First Order." She glared at him, and he simply gave her back a level stare. "That may all be, but you are my wife now, and I will not see you abused, or treated dishonorably – enemy or no. There is still a code of conduct in war, and I will—"

"You killed Han!" she shouted up at him, quickly and sharply, not even sure where the thought had come from. But, she admitted to herself quickly, it must have been pressing on her, floating in the back of her mind ever since she knew it would be _him_ she'd be marrying.

The sudden iciness of his gaze, and the lethal way that his entire body loosened, as if preparing for combat, had her whispering the second part of her thought. "That was more than dishonorable." She couldn't seem to keep a lid on her thoughts, even in the face of the predatory way he was looking at her.

And then suddenly, he was up and off of her, naked body tense and tightly coiled, hands clenching into fists, and she could just _tell_ that he was trying to stop himself from lashing out. That he was trying not to hurt her in the face of his sudden anger – and _oh_ , it was a force to be reckoned with, by what she could feel suddenly surrounding them – and his restraint was more than she had expected of him, in actual fact, and—

He called his clothes to him – the ones from the wedding, she processed distantly, as they swept violently through the room and to his outstretched hand – with the Force, and stalked out of her bedroom in flagrant disregard for his state of undress.

He was completely quiet.

Rey wasn't sure what to call the twisting feeling deep inside of her gut.

She wasn't really sure about anything in that moment, or any of the following minutes that passed her by as she stared sightlessly at the door from her place on the floor.

Finally, she tilted her head to the other side, and caught sight of the box Leia had left for her yesterday, the one that Kylo had kicked under the bed last night when he had…

When he had…

Rey clenched her eyes shut as she realized what she was feeling was guilt at having hurt the man who was now her husband.

And then she felt anger and self-disgust welling their way up from within her. Why _shouldn't_ she have called him out on the _murder_ of his father, whether he and Han had been enemy combatants or not?

Why should she feel _guilty_ for that?


	12. Chapter 12

**Note:** **Hey look! Another chapter of Mitzvah! I told you I would get you a new chapter a week, and so far I'm holding up to that promise. ^_^**

 **Thank you Annaelle for your usual awesome standards of amazing betaing. You're the best, I love you. xoxo**

 **Thank you, readers, for your wonderful reviews. I read every single one and appreciate every single one. I hope to catch up on replying to reviews one of these days... *sends out love for now***

 **I updated 'I'd start a war for you' yesterday as well; another Reylo fic in case you're interested! I'm really enjoying writing that one.**

 **Uh... so yeah. Enjoy Kylo being a loser. ;)**

* * *

Kylo snarled, though no one was around to see it. He had put his pants and boots on before stepping out of Rey's – his _wife's_ – quarters, but had drawn up short when the auburn-haired guard outside her doors had shot him a glare.

Kylo had glared right back, but had said nothing, and the other man – Rey's uncle, his mind supplied – had said nothing either. So Instead, he'd thrown his coat on over his bare chest – not bothering to button it, despite the scandal it might cause to have the royal consort prowling about palace hallways only half-dressed – and then had stalked away, towards his own quarters.

And everything had been going so _well_.

At least, he'd thought so.

He'd never in his wildest dreams imagined that he would be married to a spitfire like Rey, let alone that it would be the woman he'd been betrothed to. Actually, he'd never wanted to be married to anyone at all, and yet he couldn't deny that he'd overturned that conviction, that promise to himself, at the earliest opportunity, just to be near her. It was… baffling, honestly, but for the moment he was just going along with it.

And yet…

She was making him change. She was getting under his skin and changing the way he thought simply by a look, or an arched brow, or a single word, or even nothing at all. His wife was even now making him question everything he'd felt about _Starkiller_ – simply by asking a single question.

Simply by making one accusation.

 _That was more than dishonorable._ The memory of her words were following him through every twist and turn of the royal family corridors he took – he shot glares at the few servants he encountered along the way, but otherwise ignored them in favor of his thoughts… troubling as they may be.

Her words in and of themselves were not the problem. The problem was that her words echoed a part of him that he had squashed, deep down within him, from the moment he'd first heard the order from Snoke's lips.

He'd never wanted to kill Han – his _father_.

With a growl, Kylo grabbed his lightsaber and spun to slash the walls of the hallway—

Only to stop, aborting his attempt at letting off steam before he could even start.

He may be the prince consort, but these halls were not _his_.

Not yet, at any rate.

Slowly, he lowered his arm and deactivated the beam of his 'saber, clenching it in his hands as he started forward again, trying to control his breathing, and trying to blank his mind from his turbulent thoughts. He paid attention to nothing else but controlling himself until he reached his rooms, letting himself in swiftly, and then reaching for his 'saber, breath rushing out all in one gasp, and then—

"I see you've learned to control your temper at least somewhat better than last I saw."

Kylo swung around, 'saber activating and cutting through the air with a hiss and a crackle, stopping inches away from the neck of his uncle, sitting placidly in one of the chairs in his entryway.

He never once flinched.

The only thing that stayed Kylo's hand was the absolute control he had learned with his weapon – he may be volatile, but with his weapon every move was accounted for, planned, _chosen_.

The 'saber's crackling beam was the only sound in the room for a long moment – at least until Kylo hissed, "What are you doing here?"

Luke eyed him, an eyebrow rising as if passing judgment over Kylo – and finding him _wanting_. "My apologies for letting myself into your rooms. They were unlocked, and I figured it was better on my old bones to rest somewhere comfortable than to try and meditate in the hallway as I waited for you to return."

Kylo glared at him from behind a lock of his long black hair that had fallen in front of his face, but he made no move to push the hair from his face. His hand was steady on his lightsaber hilt, but he needed to be ready for anything that the man might throw at him. Just because Luke was sitting in a chair, hands in his lap, feet pulled up and crossed beneath him with no lightsaber or other weapon in sight, didn't mean that he wasn't still a threat.

Luke had always been like that.

Attacking Kylo with little to no notice when they had been master and student, under the guise of _training_.

Well, he had learned alright. That time in the market, after Kylo – _Ben_ , at the time, though he had chosen his new name already – had told Luke how he felt about the state of the galaxy…

That had _not_ been training.

And it had been the last time they'd seen each other face to face. His uncle had tracked him down relentlessly for months, yet he had always been a step behind when faced with the resources of the First Order and its protection of their newest asset.

Kylo blinked once, pulling himself from his memories, and then quickly deactivated his 'saber and prowling away from the man who had meant the world to him as a boy. He made sure to remain aware of Luke in the Force, just in case he moved, but otherwise he moved away from him, trying to outplay his uncle in this power struggle.

"You know that is not what I meant," Kylo said evenly, with no hint of what he as feeling rising to the surface of his thoughts or infusing the tone of his voice. "Though now I know I will have to be more cautious with the security of my chambers, and be careful of what I choose to leave here."

"I have no interest in any of your things," Luke returned just as evenly, still sitting cross-legged on the chair in the entranceway.

"Why are you on Itamar?" Kylo continued as if Luke hadn't spoken at all.

He didn't quite expect a reply, and so was surprised when he received one. "I am here to continue Rey's training." Luke's voice was calm, but…

"She doesn't know you're here, does she," Kylo asked, though the question came out more as a statement. If Rey had known that Luke was here, she would have acted much more differently than she had, and he would have _known_. Rey would have insisted on the man being present for the wedding and—

"You were here for the wedding," Kylo guessed before Luke could even reply to his previous assertion.

"I was," Luke replied.

"Why?" he asked as he filled a glass on the sideboard with some port.

"We—" Kylo furrowed his brow at the use of the word— "wished to see this union with our own eyes." Kylo could hear the man getting up from his seat and making his way closer – but not too close. It was odd, however: Kylo knew that Luke could move as quiet as anything. He had learned the exact same skill from his uncle, himself. Perhaps Luke wished to be heard; wished not to incite him… Kylo shook his head slightly and drained his glass in one go.

What a morning already.

"To see one of the most powerful independent nations tie itself finally to one of the great actors on the stage of war? That was something we had to see, never mind the fact that it was Rey. But we wished to be here to support her as well. We knew who she was marrying, and worried—"

Kylo's mind flashed to the box of birth control he had pushed into Rey's hands last night as he'd carried her into the bedroom.

" _Mother_ ," Kylo whispered, though the force of it was enough to cut Luke off with an audible click of the older man's teeth.

"You lost the right to call her that years ago," Luke snapped, anger – _emotion_ – finally coloring his tone.

Kylo spun on him, rebuttal on the tip of his tongue—

And then he stopped. He closed his jaw, tempered his expression, and then slowly turned around once again.

Luke was right – no matter what circumstances had led him away from his family; no matter that his mother was not really the cause for any of his decisions to join the First Order… he had still betrayed his mother.

That was something he would not argue – for all her faults, he still… _cared_.

Instead, he asked, "Is she off world now?" knowing that the underlying question – _is she safe?_ – would ring loud and clear despite the actual words remaining unspoken. There was no doubt that Itamar was currently as far from a safe place for his mother as possible, with the First Order's looming, inescapable presence due to his marriage and their newfound alliance with the system.

Luke understood. "Yes," he replied, almost gently.

Kylo couldn't handle hearing that – couldn't handle it at _all_ , and didn't wish to.

So he returned to one of his earlier thoughts. "You can't train her. You would make a fool of the First Order? I will not allow it." His tone and words were not harsh, though he wished he could drum up the strength to make them so.

"It's not up to you," Luke stated firmly, defiantly.

Kylo turned around slowly once more, a newly-filled glass of port again in hand. He brought the rim to his lips, sipping thoughtfully as he eyed his uncle calculatingly. "The king has approved?"

"He has." Luke met him stare for stare.

Raising one brow, Kylo kept his calm in the nearness of the man he hadn't seen in nearly a decade – the man who had betrayed him – and returned, "I am sure he was not as… welcoming as you wished him to be." A disgruntled look crossed his uncle's features before he could hide them. "Ah yes, I thought so," he said smugly. "Welcome to Itamar." He gestured with the hand that was holding his lightsaber. "Land of the Force-fearing."

Luke narrowed his eyes at Kylo, and then took a step back and away from his nephew, all the while keeping him in view. A couple steps back, he slanted away from Kylo, walking towards the bank of windows, though he kept the younger man in his peripherals.

Kylo let him stew in his thoughts in silence, content enough for the moment to watch the man – to study him. To see the way that age had taken the man, adding nearly twice as many years to his appearance than the amount of time that had actually passed. He'd looked better, that was for sure, and Kylo couldn't help but to take a hint of pleasure in the fact.

It served him right, for everything the man had done. For everything he had held back in the world, for every moment of _inaction_ , every single time he stood by and watched an injustice occur and did _nothing_ , for every instance that he ignored Kylo's younger self when he had pleaded with the man to act, to do, to help, to _save_.

Every time he had wondered where the hero of the Rebellion had gone. Every time he had wondered what had happened to have so changed the man from the ideals of his youth – from the things that his _mother_ had still espoused.

The man had sat and agreed with everything that Leia had stood for, and then had gone on to do _nothing_ to change the world that was against them. Something about not taking sides, following the way of the old Jedi, not affiliating themselves with one particular government or way of thinking, about letting the government decide and following the law of the galaxy. But none of the sniveling cowards in the gridlocked Republic were willing to do a damn thing if it didn't provide them with immediate benefit.

They didn't _care_.

So Kylo had set out to change the galaxy; to change who made the laws.

And then his uncle had finally chosen to act – against _Kylo_.

"The past is an awful place to be stuck in," Luke said wryly, interrupting Kylo's thoughts.

Only long hours spent in Snoke's presence stopped him from flinching at the sudden intrusion.

It had been a long time since he'd let anyone startle him like that.

Kylo's lip curled upwards. "You should know," he sneered. "You've been stuck there long enough for the both of us."

Luke leveled him an unamused look. "That was weak, but it's good to know your buttons can still be pushed."

In a fit of pique, Kylo felt the Force well up around him. Every piece of glass in the room shattered, shards crashing to the ground. As the last of them sprinkled to the ground slowly, silence took over the room. A gust of wind wound through the room from the unprotected windows, fluttering the curtains in the corner of Kylo's vision and tugging at the hair of the Jedi and his former student.

In the wake of this outburst, Kylo struggled desperately not to feel ashamed – he no longer had to worry about what his uncle thought of his outburst; he was a grown _man_ now, the leader of the Knights of Ren, Snoke's apprentice, a commander and one of the three most powerful individuals in the First Order… and yet he _still_ felt like a boy in the presence of his former master. Of the man who was his mother's brother, who was his _flesh and blood_.

He shouldn't feel like this any longer, but he had _loved_ Luke, with every desperate breath of his childhood self, and the injustices that Luke had let slide, and the fact that he had chosen to act against him… it had broken something deep within him that he had never been able to fix.

"Get out," Kylo stated as calmly as he could, holding his anger in by the skin of his teeth.

Luke simply stood there, blinking at him. The power needed to affect everything he had… his uncle finally looked like he understood who his nephew had become.

" _Get. Out._ " The words were no louder than the first time he had uttered them, but he bit them off as he felt the Force rising in him once again.

His uncle barely escaped the room before Kylo unleashed his rage.

* * *

The awareness of Kylo which she'd had in the back of her mind ever since that morning winked out. Although she had locked him out after realizing that her mind, her thoughts, had been open to her enemy – her _husband_ , her mind supplied, rather unhelpfully, and she suppressed a glower – after waking up wrapped up in his memory-dream, she had still retained an impression of his presence in the Force, able to tell that he was still nearby, and if he were awake, but no more.

However, halfway through her shower, his presence had suddenly disappeared. For a brief moment she had feared – why would she _fear_ that? – that he was dead, but it had been too clean of a separation for death, she was sure. It felt like one of the masking tricks Luke had been working on teaching her; felt like how Luke had felt when he had hidden himself from her to show her. Rey couldn't tell where Kylo was at that moment, but she knew that he hadn't left the castle's grounds or its environs before the connection had been severed.

But really, why did she care? Why did she worry where her… _husband_ was, or where he was… not?

Unfortunately, Rey knew exactly why.

She was worried she had hurt him, and couldn't escape the feeling that she had to make something… anything… _everything_ right again.

Not that she owed him as much, but…

But she couldn't quite help feeling guilty for what she had said. Perhaps she should have gone about what she had in a different way.

There were a lot of things in her life she should have done differently.

Rey shunted the thought of Han Solo and his son to the side for the moment – she'd already given it plenty of thought over the months since his death… it could keep for a little while longer.

At least until she could talk to her hus— _Kylo_. At least until she could talk to Kylo.

* * *

"Your highness."

Rey stopped and glanced over her shoulder, her dove grey and forest green split skirts swirling around her ankles as she stilled her movements.

"General." She inclined her head as he straightened from his bow, acknowledging his presence. "Walk with me."

Rey wasn't quite sure how to treat the red-headed man who fell into step at her side. She and he had spoken only briefly at the banquet following her wedding and, honestly, she didn't recall much of anything about what words they'd exchanged.

But she knew a _lot_ about who he was – and what he had done.

It was enough to make her sick, and yet… and yet she had to play nice.

They were allies now, and instead of lashing out against it… Rey would make the best of a bad situation and work to the best of her abilities to change what the future held.

She had that power now.

Rey relinquished the empty basket from her arms to the general when he offered to carry it for her, and she and him made their way back to the castle grounds in near-companionable silence, winding their way through the city streets and enjoying the teeming life that moved around them.

Smiling as a little boy was chased past her in a game of tag, arm ruffling the edge of her skirts, she held onto the moment for as long as she could – before finally turning her head slightly towards the general, eyes still facing forward, and asking, "Is there anything I can help you with, General Hux?"

An expression filled with consternation flashed across his features before he could school them. He cut right to the chase; something she could appreciate. "Ky— your husband has left the planet's surface, your highness."

Rey was silent for a long moment, digesting the news, though she felt little surprise. She had suspected as such when their connection winked out. She said nothing as they walked through the castle grounds' primary gate complex, though Rey was struggling internally with the feeling that it was _she_ he was avoiding.

Shouldn't she be happy?

Finally, Hux spoke up once again. "There is not anything in particular that I need – however, I simply wished to check in with you and see if there was anything you could tell me about that would cause his behavior over the last few days?" he inquired, the last words of the sentence lilting upwards.

She was only one hundred percent certain about one thing in his statement, and that was that he was _not_ simply curious – there was something more he wanted, but she had no idea what it was.

Yet she had no time or inclination for court politics. The man may represent her new allies, but it did not mean that she had to entertain his notions. Or, at the very least, she would wait until she had more information about what he might want – or, _Maker forbid_ , he actually told her what he wanted. She barely held back the urge to roll her eyes—

— _and_ the urge to lash out and kill the mass murderer.

But she couldn't do that, not _currently_ , so Rey simply ignored the question, took her basket from the general's hands, and then stepped through the castle's kitchen entrance to return some of the bread she had taken earlier and not used.

"And, your highness?" the man's voice came out more firmly this time, expressing the confidence, arrogance, and strength she knew he held in spades.

Rey paused on the threshold, tilting her head though she did not turn to look at him.

Hux took it as the invitation to speak that it was.

"Your… _Jedi –_ " He said the word distastefully – "is here, at the castle." A pause. "The one called Luke Skywalker." He sounded slightly awed by the idea of a living legend walking the same grounds as he, but he hid it quickly and well.

Rey paused, stated simply, "Thank you," and then entered the halls near the kitchen.

So. Luke was here, and Kylo was gone.

Well then.

Rey slid down the inside of the door, her guards her ever-present shadows. But she didn't even notice them as she drove her fingers into her unbound hair, dropping her head onto the tops of her knees.

So it began.


	13. Chapter 13

"So you've finally come to pay respects to your old Master."

Rey rolled her eyes, though she knew Luke couldn't see her. "The only thing old about you is your sense of style," she teased back, lightly, as she took her first couple of steps into the training room. BB-2's little green and white body rolled in after her, trilling a greeting to the Jedi meditating in the center of the room with his back to them.

It had been four days since the wedding, and three since she had felt Kylo whisk himself away rather than face her. It had been nearly three _months_ since she had last seen Luke, but she knew that she, at least, had changed immeasurably since their last encounter. They hadn't even spoken since, and Rey was worried – what with all this about Kylo, and the First Order, and her becoming so _different_ – that he would no longer accept her. So… she had taken a few days to work up her nerve to visit the man, knowing that her uncle Miron would adhere to her request for privacy and turn away the man in question until she was ready to change her mind.

She was scared, and it wasn't something that sat well with her. So, finally, she had grabbed the problem by the scruff of its neck and marched it right out of her mind – or as near as she could get, at least – and then marched her own silly self through the castle complex until she found her Master.

Rey did the same now, forcing herself to take more and more steps into the room until she turned and sat herself right down in front of Luke. BB-2 rolled behind her and she leaned on him happily, glad to spend time once more with the droid and his easygoing manner. Now that Chewbacca had left, the little droid was at her side near constantly, and she could deny him nothing.

She settled the cloth of her red loose-skirted trousers around her as she sat in a classic meditation pose, and then tilted her head and gave Luke a nervous little smile.

He cracked one eye open and then the other, one brow arching rather gracefully as he took in her brown and red ensemble. "Well," he finally said after a moment. "Never mind _my_ style! You have enough style now for the both of us, little one." Oh how she had _missed_ him and his friendship.

He smiled easily, and Rey's expression melted quickly into a relieved grin and an embarrassed chuckle. "Well… it's not really _my_ style!" she protested. "My aunt seems to take great pleasure in seeing that I stay primped in style. This is all her doing, I promise. I've been here a few months and I _still_ don't know which end of the skirt goes at the bottom, it seems. Let alone the difference between last season's style and this one, or what is appropriate for a princess versus a countess!" She threw up her hands in mock exasperation.

But really, it _was_ a lot of information to take in and she was just glad she didn't have to worry about the particulars about which shade of which color was sure to insult the judge or the priest or whatever silly thing people got upset over.

"Oh you _poor_ thing," Luke drawled, smirking. "At least you're not shoveling your face full of all the different types of foods on offer unlike that time when—"

He was cut off abruptly by Rey's petulant, only semi-serious glare, her nose turning up. "Well, at least I don't still look like a hermit – unlike _some_ people I could name!"

Luke laughed outright at that, and Rey was so relieved – _absolutely relieved_ – that things seemed to be the same as they were before. She was sure that at some point they would have to talk about what had… well, about everything in Rey's life that had changed. She knew it was coming, especially since she was caught between two sides of a long and bloody war that was swiftly spreading even further across the galaxy. And, like it or not, she was now a major player.

Even more than being the last Jedi's Padawan.

She was now the wife of Luke's former student, the wife of his nephew, the wife of his _enemy_ , and the heir to a system that had now aligned itself – even if they still had autonomy – with the First Order.

For all that… she was glad that Luke had still come. He meant a lot to her; one of the first real connections she had made in her life. She couldn't stand it if he avoided her, or _hated_ her for things not entirely in her control. She refused to put a label on what he meant to her, but he meant more to her now than anyone else _ever_ had, in a way that Han hadn't had the chance to be, Leia was too distant for, her uncle incapable of, and Finn… well—

Finn was something else entirely.

But it didn't matter anymore – it _couldn't_ matter anymore. She only hoped that he had a chance with someone else someday; that he wasn't _mad_ at her for what had happened.

Luke, always able to sense her moods, reached forward and lay his mechanical hand upon Rey's wrist where it lay on top of her knee. His expression softened enough that Rey felt tears prickling her eyes.

Luke was always able to lay her soul open with that look, and now was not an exception.

"Shall we begin?" Luke asked gently, his other hand lifting up to dash a tear from off of her cheek.

Rey could only nod, grateful to have this kind and caring man in her life.

BB-2 beeped and trilled, pushing against her back even more firmly, and Rey couldn't help but to smile.

She was glad to have her little droid, too.

* * *

 _Dear Kylo—_

Rey breathed deep through her nose and then deleted the entire file on her datapad. She frowned, and then tried again.

 _Kylo_ —

No, that wasn't right either.

Rey growled in frustration and deleted the single word from the otherwise spotless document. Maybe…

 _Commander Ren_ —

Rey warily eyed the look of that on the datapad, wondering if it was too stilted, too formal, or if she should – _no_ , there was no way she was going to write him anything informal, even if their… relationship, as it were… was anything _but_ formal.

Her cheeks heated at the reminder of exactly _how_ informal their relationship had become in so little time. The way his hands moved down her arms, the feel of his lips against hers, the powerful way he consumed everything about her and—

Rey let out an inarticulate half-scream of frustration. What was she _doing_? Why couldn't she get her damn mind off of that night, off of the ceremony, the way he kissed her in front of everyone and the way he kissed her away from all prying eyes… the way he touched her reverently in a way that she had never imagined her enemy – her _husband_ , her treacherous mind reminded her, and she had every right to desire him – could touch someone, let alone _her_ … the way he had made her feel like she was the only one in the world who mattered… the way he had made her forget for one night that he wasn't her enemy—

But he _was_.

Wasn't he?

The door from the hallway to the suite opened and her uncle poked his head inside, making sure to sweep systematically and thoroughly through the room for danger – she knew there was a reason she liked the man, she thought, desperately trying to distract herself from the turn her thoughts had taken.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, one auburn brow raised.

Rey laughed at herself, and made a gesture with the hand that held the datapad. "Just having some trouble finding the right words," she admitted ruefully.

Miron's eyes softened as if he understood exactly who she was trying to write to – he probably did, in fact. "Anything I can help with?"

Rey mulled the idea over in her head for a moment, and then replied, "Any idea how to apologize without actually apologizing?"

Miron let out a full belly laugh as he adjusted to stand just inside of the doorway. "No, not I. When I apologize I go for the full-out groveling. But I'm pretty sure that's not what you're looking for," he winked. "Tivona is the one who makes me feel like an idiot even whenshe's apologizing, so honestly you'd have better luck with her. Would you like me to call for her?"

Rey smirked at the thought. Tivona would be a big help, but there was no sense in dragging her… _marital_ problems in front of her family.

Her smirk flickered and then disappeared, and she replied quietly, but emphatically, "No, that's alright. But thank you, uncle. I'll be fine." She placed the datapad in her lap once more, and glanced down at the beginning of her letter.

Miron hesitated. "What is it?" she asked, slightly apprehensive of what he might possibly have to say. She guarded her expression as she looked at him full-on, noticing the way the man shifted his weight very slightly. He was usually much more composed with her, but she'd come to be able to pick out his visual cues.

"May I speak freely, your highness?" he asked.

Rey eyed him warily now, but nodded. She never wanted her uncle to have to feel like he needed to be formal with her, but it had been nearly impossible to get the reminder of what _he_ saw as a failure – him losing her – out of his system, and thus she was left with… this. Perhaps with time…

Miron paused a moment, and then spoke firmly and with determination. "The man is a fool if he doesn't treat you like the treasure you are, Rey. You have so much at your fingertips now but it doesn't mean that you deserve any less respect from him, or that you should be cast aside when he can't work through his own damn problems. You have so much, but you deserve love, too. Not some awful match. All that being said, I see how much potential there is between the two of you – don't let yourself or him ruin this. Be firm, but be supportive. Be true to yourself, but be understanding. Relationships take… _effort._ They take time to grow. But they _are_ worth it. They can undeniably be worth everything, and you deserve _everything_ , Rey."

Rey could only stare at him in surprise, her mind both blank and seemingly whirring all over the place, all at once. She couldn't settle on any one thought, couldn't settle on anything to say in response to what her uncle had just laid out for her. She could barely even nod at him when he bowed to her and left, his purple and yellow cloak swirling around his shins.

Lifting the tips of her fingers to her mouth, Rey could only let out a shuddering breath.

 _Love_?

* * *

"General Hux, if you will?"

Hux looked down at the object the princess was handing him. It was a small datachip, and she dropped it into his gloved palm when he held it out to her.

Stepping back slightly and offering her a deferential bow, he looked inquisitively at her once he was upright again.

She flushed. She didn't like having to do it this way at all, but her uncle didn't know and her grandfather had taken ill the day before and was now closeted in his rooms for rest, and General Hux was the only one she could think of to ask. It's not like she couldn't have waited a few days to find someone else who knew, but she really wanted to get this off of her chest, and let her anxiety be laid to rest.

"It's…" She cleared her throat, and then tried for her more assured tone; the one she'd been practicing the last few months. She was sure she'd failed, if the man's expression was anything to go by. He flustered her worse than _Kylo_ , for kriff's sake. And not in a good way. Not that Kylo flustered her in a…

Rey flushed further and then cleared her throat. "My uncle tells me you are leaving today, and no one seems to be sure how to get ahold of Ky— _Commander_ Ren. Would you kindly pass this message on to him?"

Hux pocketed the chip before she could second guess herself. She'd already done enough of that while writing the damn thing, though, and she was anxious to get the thing out of her sight. "I can do that, your highness," he replied evenly. She couldn't quite tell what he was thinking beneath that stoic mask of his, and it bothered her more than she was willing to admit.

She really did _not_ like the man.

"Is everything alright between you both?"

She _really_ did not like the man – at all!

Rey raised an eyebrow in a move she had copied from Tivona – it always worked to quell the powerful men who shared her aunt's sphere of influence – but the man only arched a brow of his own in return. She refused to let him get to her, and so kept her expression calm. "That is of no concern to you, general," she replied in her best attempt at being prim.

BB-2 emitted a harsh and grating beeping sound as he peeked out at the general from behind Rey's dark blue skirts, as though to emphasize her words, and Rey didn't even bother to hide her bark of laughter at the man's expense.

The man's look of confusion was golden, but Rey's laughter was quickly cut short when he pulled himself together immediately and retorted, "Oh, but it _is_ my concern, your highness. The lives of those in royal families are not private, and your husband is of vast significance to the Order and its cause. Anything that comes between him and his duties must be headed off before it devolves. It would be far better for it to be headed off close to home rather than have it become something the Supreme Leader…" He paused, and slanted her a dark look. "…must take time out of his busy schedule to handle himself."

Rey drew herself up as tall as she could, shoulders back and head high. BB-2 made a hissing sound at the man, and she could feel her two guards reach for the hilt of their swords through the Force. "Are you threatening me and mine, General Hux?" she said with deadly calm.

Hux didn't even blink. He didn't even pause before he descended into a lower bow than earlier. "No, your highness." He paused again, and Rey could _tell_ that he was not being sincere. But she had no proof other than… other than he was a terrible man, and a member of the First Order.

As was her husband.

And… well, many would view her as being part of the First Order now.

She could feel herself paling, the blood rushing from her head, and she barely managed a, "Keep it that way," before she pushed roughly past him and towards where Luke was waiting for her.

* * *

 _Commander Ren,  
Although I am not sorry for what I said, I am sorry for how I said what I did. It was not appropriate of me given the situation. It was not the right time.  
If you wish to speak of this when you return, whenever that is, I would appreciate that. I believe it is something that we need to discuss if we are to move on from where we are.  
Thank you,  
-R_

"Leave it to you to screw up something imperative for the First Order's survival, Kylo."

He snarled at the redheaded man, but with little force. The note from his _wife_ had set his heart to racing and his mind to spinning. He read the note once more and then glared at Hux from beneath his eyelashes. "For one thing, do you realize how absolutely _ridiculous_ it is of you to be giving _me_ relationship advice? You're even worse than I am," he snarked, grinning when Hux narrowed his eyes at him. "Don't think I don't know about that cat you've hidden inside your chambers – she's the only lady to ever grace your room for more than a nightly romp, and you know it." He haughtily ignored – and grinned internally at – the way that Hux hissed in anger – much like that damned cretin of his – and continued, "And for another…What does it matter to you if my relationship is on the rocks or not? You have what you want out of Itamar. Leave me be. Leave _her_ be," he added more seriously, narrowing his own eyes right back at the master manipulator.

Hux sighed – a trifle more dramatically than was really necessary, in Kylo's educated opinion – and sat himself down in Kylo's armchair, one leg crossed over the other at the knee. "Well," he drawled, elongating the vowels to the point Kylo wanted to _punch_ him.

Not that the urge did not visit him several times a day anyway.

He managed to repress it.

Mostly.

"Besides me honestly wanting my _friend_ to be happy?" Kylo scoffed at the man, but did not interrupt. "Besides that, who's to say that the First Order isn't done with her royal highness herself?"

Kylo's breath caught in his throat, and he struggled not to let it show on his expressive features. After a moment of dead silence, Hux continued, as if it were no big deal, "Don't worry; we don't intend your wife any harm. We just wish to… hm… well, having the long-lost princess of an influential system on the side of the First Order? Imagine the support that would flock to our cause with her at the fore. More than even her being your equal with the Force." He tapped a long finger against his lips. "Only if she agrees to it, of course, Kylo – I'm not a heathen."

Kylo could only stare at him, shaking his head a couple of times before he finally returned, "She won't ever agree to it, Hux."

His friend looked up at him, a glint in his eye, and hummed. "Hm… we'll see."

* * *

Three weeks to the day – though not the hour – from her husband's disappearing act, the doors to Rey's bedroom flew open in the middle of the night, admitting none other than the man in question.

Rey's lightsaber had flown to her hand, immediately activating upon her grip wrapping around the hilt, and the blue light filled the otherwise dark room.

But it was enough to see the way he _looked_ at her.

* * *

 **Note:** **Thank you to my ever-loving Annaelle for fleshing this chapter (and more) out with me over the weekend, and for providing speedy and excellent and thought-provoking betaing this afternoon right after I finished the rough draft. You make my stories better and fuller and more real, lady. xoxo**

 **The "shall we begin?" line from Luke is definitely inspired from Daenerys' same line in Game of Thrones. Props to Martin/the script writers (honestly not sure if that line is in the books, sorry). Also, how about that new season!? Ohmigosh.**

 **Thank you everyone for your lovely comments. I know I haven't been replying to them as of late but I read every single one and love every last word. Thank you thank you thank you.**

 **Also, guess what!? I wrote this chapter and a fic yesterday and my hands don't hurt! I've been doing tendon stretches and I could just weep with joy at this result.**

 **See you next week. Hopefully some Haze tomorrow! xoxo 3**


	14. Chapter 14

The expression on Rey's face shifted from shock, to anger, to fear, and then to something Kylo had no possible way of quantifying. There were elements there that combined all of her previous expressions, but there was something… _more_.

"Kylo?" she queried sharply, powering down her lightsaber as she rushed towards him, barring any sort of hesitation. She kept a grip on her 'saber, however, and he could feel a distant part of himself approving at her caution. "What are you doing here? It's the middle of the night!" She stopped directly in front of him, and her fingers reached up towards his cheek hesitantly, though they never made contact. Her features had finally settled on a mix of disgruntlement and confusion. "What's wrong?"

 _Everything_.

Kylo choked on the word, unable to speak it aloud.

Unable to admit to the truth of his reality falling apart around him.

That didn't make it any less true.

 _Everything_ was wrong. His entire view of the galaxy had shifted within him and he had no _kriffing_ clue of how to deal with it. Not even the events on _Starkiller_ had caused him to question his path as much as… _this_.

The room was poorly lit, but he could see Rey looking closely at him, studying his features as best she could in the darkness. She didn't turn the lights on, for which he was grateful, even though he knew that it would be easier for her to see if she did so.

He wanted her to see, but he also… _didn't_.

Both. Neither. One or the other. He didn't know which.

He noted distantly that the disconnect he felt—the absolute inability to process even the simplest of thoughts—was a sign that he was going into shock, but…

Force, he didn't _care_.

"Kylo?" her voice broke through his thoughts again, and he startled slightly before he found her eyes in the gloom again. She sounded… concerned. His eyes flitted away from hers, and then back again. He had expected understanding—had _hoped_ for it—but concern was… He breathed in deeply—an attempt to settle himself, to regain control over his body—and then let his shoulders slump as he closed his eyes, tilting his head slightly to the side to relieve the tension strumming through his neck and the rest of his body.

There was silence from her—one beat, two beats, more—and then suddenly he felt her smaller hand wrapping around his left and she was tugging him across the room. He went, incapable of much reaction in his numb state, pulled towards the large bed where they had—

He cut off the thought before it could fully form.

He did not have the strength nor the will to dive into that pool of confusing feelings.

He was pushed down onto his rear on the edge of the bed, and suddenly Rey was slightly taller than him. It was an unsettling feeling to be shorter than her—than anyone—for once. It was still dark within the room, but he could see the way her thin linen shift moved around her body, clinging in some places, and fluttering in others when the breeze from an open window blew against them.

She was beautiful.

And she was _alive_.

The realization _broke_ him, shoulders hunching inward as he collapsed in on himself, head bowing as he desperately tried to control the sobs that were suddenly forcing their way up, as grief tore at his lungs in a desperate need to be let loose.

He hadn't known where else to go.

Not with the thoughts swirling around inside his head. They were too dangerous, too treacherous, too… nobody, not even his second, would have been able to understand what he was feeling right now. The pull he was feeling between the Light and the Dark, between past and future, between one set of ideals and another…

He did not think _anyone_ could understand being torn between the lure of the Dark Side and the warmth— _safety_ —of the Light.

He knew she would understand, with what her life had become, as soon as he thought of her not even a day ago when, when—

"He killed him," he whispered.

He could feel Rey freeze above him, and then suddenly her fingers were on his chin, tilting his gaze up to meet hers. She must have opened some of the curtains while he wasn't paying attention because he could see her eyes widen as she took in his face. "You have _blood_ on you," she whispered, shocked. "Let me… let me help you with that."

And before he could stop her, she was racing off.

Barely a minute had passed—far too little time for his disconnected mind to process she had left the room—before she was back with a bowl filled with steaming water and a soft washcloth. She dunked the cloth in the water and wrung it out and then lifted it towards his face, asking softly, "May I?" before proceeding at his barely there nod.

Kylo closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of her fingers against his skin as she tilted his face from side to side, and the feel of the slightly rough terry cloth as she dabbed it over his cheeks, forehead, nose, neck…

It was a grounding, soothing feeling.

His mind settled slightly, and for the first time in hours—days, _months_ —he did not feel as though he were a lone man standing in the middle of a storm, screaming his lungs out as he waited for someone to finally _hear_ him.

He was breaking, and she was _there_ for him.

Finally, she stepped back and set the bowl to the floor with a clunk. He opened his eyes, thinking she was done, but instead he saw her drop to her knees in front of him, reaching for one of his hands as she did so. Rey picked up the cloth once more, squeezed it out with one hand, and then started to clean his hands.

He stared, horrified, at his hands as she scrubbed at them. The blood… he would never be washed clean of the blood. Even if it could no longer be seen, it was _his_ fault, and he could never get rid of it. He would never forget. It was… it was…

It was his _fault_.

He would never be free.

And he shouldn't be.

"Who killed who?" she asked after a few moments of silent concentration. She didn't look up at him; instead her eyes remained focused on the task before her.

 _Him_.

He knew she would understand, at least somewhat, what had happened, what he was feeling, but he hadn't ever imagined he would be treated like… like _this_.

It had been so long since he had been treated with simple kindness.

It was beyond his ability to process at the moment, and so he set aside the thought for the moment. It was all he could do to control his thoughts to that extent.

Perhaps if—

"Kylo?" she asked again, drawing him out of the unpleasant fog of his mind.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, blinking his eyes rapidly in an attempt to focus on her. He struggled to remember the question, and then he stilled when he did. She looked up at him expectantly from her spot on the floor in front of him, cloth and bowl set to the side, hands in her lap.

He must have lost time again.

She tilted her head at him, as if unsure of how to reply to his apology. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. You must be tired—you could sleep and then we could talk about it? If you want?"

"No!" he bit out, fear coursing through him. Sleep was—it wasn't—He'd tried that earlier, and the images had plagued him even worse than his waking mind.

Rey looked as if she understood, and… perhaps she did.

The thought spurred him to speak, finally, his words coming out in fits and starts, haltingly making their way through what had happened.

She could help. She would know what to do. She would _understand_.

"I… Snoke killed Naseer." Rey flinched at the name, but let him continue. "One of my Knights. One of the first of my Knights, and one of three I truly trust. He was—"

He breathed in deeply through his nose, fluttering his eyes shut and keeping them that way. "Snoke killed him in front of me, because… because he followed one of my orders and not… not _his_. One of my orders that countermanded his. I… I hadn't meant it to, I swear." A slight note of hysteria snuck into his voice, and only Rey's hand on his reminded him of where he was.

 _Safe_.

He was, for now at least, safe.

"But… but I don't think… it mattered—not really," he admitted grudgingly. "It's happened before, in the past, where something one of my Knights did on my orders contra… contradicted something he wanted of them. And whether they followed his orders or not, there were reper—repercussions, but nothing like… like _this_." His voice cracked on the last, a sob welling up in his throat. "I've known Naseer for over seven years, and he… he was so…"

He clenched his eyes shut tighter, breathing deeply in an effort to control himself.

"He was my _friend_ ," he choked, fingers curling into a tight fist as the words fell from his lips. "And it was almost like… like Sno— _he_ wanted me to suffer. It was… it was more than Naseer's disobedience. Actually, it was like it had nothing to _do_ with it at all. Beyond the first mention of… of it, he… _he_ never brought it up again. Just made me… made me _watch_. Made me watch as he took him apart, piece by piece, in—in—"

His eyes snapped open, but it was less to see the woman in front of him than to _not_ see the scene playing out on the backs of his eyelids. "He left when… when there was nothing I could do. _Nothing_. All I could do was hold him and make sure he knew—knew… knew that there was someone who _cared_ for him. Someone who would be there to speak the rites over him. Someone who would tell his—his _sister_ what had happened to him, and that he had died with dignity."

Naseer had not needed words to tell him that was what he needed to hear. Kylo had known Naseer and Anath for _years_ , and he knew that the only thing Naseer wanted to know before becoming one with the Force was that his sister would be taken care of.

That they would ascertain she would attempt to live on, despite the loss of her Bond mate.

"All I could do was promise him I would look after his sister but—but she— _Anath_ —she _hates_ me now. She… she… we were _friends_ , the twins and Savat and I altogether, like the siblings I never—" He cleared his throat and dug the fingers of one hand into the palm of the other.

"She blames me for his death. She should. She… she didn't want to come with me, and the only way I could get her to come was by… by bringing her brother's _body_ with us, Rey. She's hurting from the destruction of her bond and I just dragged her along with me because I threatened to take her brother's body away from her _._ And she won't even let me talk to her or be _near_ her—Savat has to tend to her now. How is that caring for her? How is that keeping my promise to Naseer? How can I not blame myself, when she told me it was my fault, and when Snoke said that—that—" He swallowed. "When he said that I would be good to forego _attachment_ to those who could be _taken_ from me so easily. How can I not blame myself when it was all to teach _me_ a _lesson_?"

He fell silent except for the sounds of his deep breaths in and out, in and out, _in_ and all he could see was Naseer's bloodied face and the mangled remains of his body and—

"You're not at fault," Rey spoke against his ear as she pushed herself onto her knees and reached up to pull him down towards her. "You're not; I _promise_ you're not." She kept whispering it over and over again as he let himself bury his head in her neck and shoulder, her loose hair tickling at his skin, though he paid it no mind.

He couldn't.

He couldn't find it in himself to care about anything other than the feel of her against him, the feel of her stomach pressed against his knees, and the words she was whispering in a never-ending pattern.

"He wants to kill you, too."

The words burst out from past his lips, and he'd had no idea they were true until that moment. But they were—they _were_ true. "He doesn't care about any alliance, doesn't care about Itamar. He thinks he can control it one way or another, but it's just better to control it with _willing_ participants. All he cares about is controlling me, and he's been _taking_ everything I _care_ about, one by one, slowly, so slowly, to the point I almost wanted it—and I _did_ for a while there."

The shame he felt at the admission burned through him, and nausea curdled deep in the pit of his stomach, but he could not stop the words from falling from his lips because he needed her to _understand_.

"I thought it was what was needed, to achieve what needed to happen in the galaxy. To get rid of all the corruption, and greed, and slavery, and all the _injustice_ that was happening. Everything that my mother was fighting but couldn't fix, everything that my uncle refused to stand up against out of some _stupid_ adherence to the old Jedi Code, thinking that 'all things would happen in their own time'—"

He sneered. "I thought that if I could sacrifice who I was… Sacrifices need to be made for the greater good, I _knew_ that, and he—he _made me believe_ that there would be casualties and other sacrifices so that I would have the power to fix the bigger things, but he… I was _wrong_. _He_ was wrong. How could I not have seen it?"

And here, tears finally did begin to fall.

And once they began, nothing could stop them. They coursed down his cheeks, into her hair, in an unrelenting stream. She said nothing, just held him tighter and let him cry. Let him cry out his own disappointment in himself, let him cry out his own failures, let him cry out his own _hatred_.

"How could I not see it?" he sobbed. "He may be a single being, but he holds more corruption than the entirety of the Senate, both new and old. He hid it with the mission statement of the First Order. Hid it when I was young."

And here Rey's breath hitched, and he knew she had caught the meaning of his statement. "Hid it when I first joined him. But now… what he did to Naseer… he showed his true colors, and I believe he'd always planned to. He doesn't want what's best for the galaxy—he wants _control_. He doesn't want balance—he wants to own it _all_. And it took me losing Naseer and the thought of losing _you_ to see it. How can I not have seen it when he demanded of me the Academy? My fa— _father_ ," he choked out, overwhelming guilt washing through him for the first time.

No matter how bad of a father Han Solo had been—no matter how abusive—he was still _his father_. And… and he _saw_ that now. _Too late_. "But it was so easy, to let go of the things that I had grown to despise. But—but _Naseer_. And _you_ —"

He couldn't continue.

He just couldn't. He stopped, no more words forming within the kaleidoscope of memories his mind had become.

He remembered the bad—but he remembered the _good_ , as well. The camaraderie he'd felt immediately upon his first meeting with the twins; the way that they shared secret smiles and finished each other's sentences; the pranks they had pulled on him and his second, Savat; the teasing and sass that all three of them had given Savat when she had tirelessly attempted to teach them gymnastics; the way that Naseer would imitate Hux behind his back and Kylo had to control his laughter beneath his mask, even if not his expressions; and the fact that the brother constantly bemoaned Anath's curiosity of the general.

Now… now one was _gone_ , and the other was _broken_ , and his best friend was likely lost to him as well.

He was barely aware of his boots being unlaced and pulled from his feet, set just to the side. He was barely aware of being pulled to his feet, standing there as if he were a statue as his cloak was undone and his jacket unbuttoned, then removed from his frame to be brought who-knew-where. He simply stood there as she returned, quietly murmuring to herself as she loosened his collar and pulled off his belt.

It was only as he was being pushed back onto the bed that he came back to himself—though just enough to pull his feet up onto the mattress when she started to lift his legs for him, and to protest with, "No, I'll get blood—"

She shushed him easily, pulling the covers up over both of them as she climbed into bed by crawling over him, and then placing a hand on his chest as she looked down at him. "I won't have it," she said quietly, keeping her hand in place as she lowered herself fully onto her side. She curled her body against his, wrapping herself around him, her mind blooming against his—whether consciously or not—in a way that was almost warmer and more comforting than her body pressed tight to his side, one leg flung over his thighs, her hand still held firmly against his heart.

One of his last thoughts were, "What now?" but she simply hummed and shushed him again, murmuring "We'll figure that out," as she pulled his tumultuous mind into the quietness that was hers.

Her mind helped to push all the thoughts away; all the thoughts consuming him, and even the numbness. His thoughts were gone for a long time as he just breathed, slowly and evenly, thinking of _nothing_ at all as he descended into slumber, except for one final half-formed thought.

Peace.

He had forgotten what it felt like.

* * *

 **Note:** **Thank you everyone for the wonderful response I've been getting on this fic as I finally continue it! I know my posting dates are a bit haphazard but I suppose that's the price I pay for actually being able to write and living with my mother (who loves to drag me around everywhere haha).**

 **This chapter was going to have more scenes, but it just... it seemed too important to distract from, and I wanted to give it as much space as necessary. I want this to be a turning point, and not just another chapter. Because that's how I intend it. Y'know, this wasn't even going to happen. I totally changed course from my original thread-the-needle and balancing act plans for the rest of this story. I mean, it'll still be a complicated song and dance to write, but it will make other things much more satisfying and, in some ways, easier.**

 **Myself and my lovely beta, Annaelle, much prefer this course to the previous one, though that one wasn't bad either!**

 **I blame Kylo and his 'look' from last chapter. I was wondering what exactly his look should be, as I hadn't had it entirely decided even when I wrote it, and I'm like "hmmm... smut? hm... sadness? hmm... anger? what is it!?" and while I was rereading Codega I was like "oh I should do this for the ending" and then it transferred to Mitz, and it transferred into... this. Not that anything in Co does or will resemble Mitz. Just the way my brain works. ;)**

 **ANYWHO. Strap in for a ride, reylo fam.**

 **Much love! xoxo**


	15. Chapter 15

**Note: My apologies for missing out on you last week! My hands were doing pretty badly and my writing projects went right out the window. But it worked out because I was able to get my mind around some of the plot points going forward in this, and I'm liking where it's heading!**

 **Check out my blog for a beautiful piece of art by the lovely panda-capuccino for last chapter. You can search for 'Mitzvah' and it'll be right near the top!**

 **Thanks to my lovely beta Annaelle for being so patient with me as I've been trying to figure this thing out, for her late-night editing sessions that still offer me a lot of wonderful insight despite her brain, in her words, being addled. And thank you to her for putting up with me going nuts with my new Marvel fic. She's a champ. ^.^**

* * *

He was still sleeping.

Rey moved quietly, she always had, but Kylo seemed dead to the world as she shuffled around in the bed, finally propping herself up on one elbow so that she could observe the man from a better angle.

She'd never seen him sleep before and, despite the urgency of what had occurred the night before, Rey took the time to observe the man, slowing her thoughts down before they went haring off on a galactic bent. There would be time enough for… for what he had said.

So for the moment, Rey took the time to observe her… husband.

It was still odd to think of him as such, but she found that it was even more oddly easier to think of him as just that, after last night.

So she watched him, with new eyes it seemed.

The last time they'd slept in the same bed, Rey had been out before him and awake after. The last time they'd been in this bed they had…

Rey could feel her skin heating, but she didn't stop her train of thoughts. It wasn't right to hide from them forever. She had been thinking of what had happened on the night of their wedding, but never while he was in her presence. Having him there with her, to look at, to touch if she so wished, gave her thoughts new weight.

She didn't regret it at all. Part of her wanted to, but she wasn't in the business of lying to herself about her own truths. And this one was a big one. She wanted him. She wanted him _again_ , despite there now being no requirement for them to join together hanging over their heads. But she also… well, she wasn't entirely sure that she could take those next steps purely for pleasure's sake, despite the fact that they were married and would eventually need an heir if she were to do right by her people and secure them a future without the threat of a war of succession.

There was time for that later, and Rey was used to denying herself worldly pleasures. She was used to going without, and even with the luxury that had fallen into her lap, she still felt uncomfortable at times with what had become of her life.

Plus, well, Kylo was still an unknown factor.

A member of the First Order, the pupil of Supreme Leader Snoke, responsible for pain and anguish and torture and _death_.

Despite what she had seen from him last night, she couldn't trust him yet—not fully.

As much as her heart cried out to comfort him, as much as it may have cried out for him in compassion and understanding last night… he could still be playing her. He could still be manipulating her.

He could be.

She was not one hundred percent sure that he wasn't, but it was more than likely that every last thing from his reentry into her life had been sincere—but there was always a chance. And Rey had always been careful.

It was how she'd survived through _so much_ on Jakku.

But she still had a heart.

She couldn't— _wouldn't_ —imagine losing someone as dear to her heart as Naseer had been to Kylo.

Kylo's pain and brokenness last night had touched that heart in such a deep way, and she was sure that this was going to mark a turning point for the man. That Kylo could move on from the First Order, betray it, even, as it had betrayed him.

As it had betrayed so many people.

She would watch, and she would wait, and while she waited… she would attempt to learn who her husband truly was. Who he had _become_.

Rey slowly extricated herself from beneath the large man's legs—he had barely moved an inch since falling asleep in her arms last night—and removed herself from the bed, taking a moment to stare down at the man from the new angle.

His features were softer in sleep, but he still seemed… hard. His skin carried frown lines that hadn't quite smoothed out and the scar marring his face seemed to stand out more in the light of the morning—or, perhaps his skin was paler. When had he last eaten? How long ago had the death of his friend occurred? Had he been taking care of himself?

Shaking her head gently of the thoughts, she resolved to tell one of the royal staff to bring food for the man—and his clothes. All of the things from his rooms.

There was no sense in him living apart from her, especially if she was going to learn who he now was. Especially when—a frown tugged at her features—his life may be in danger, if the First Order knew what she suspected Kylo Ren may be preparing to do.

She would speak to her uncle as well… maybe… maybe even Luke, if it seemed right. But at least her uncle, for now, to see what sort of changes to security would be needed. Not that he and Rey couldn't care for themselves, especially as Force users, but…

Rey sighed quietly, and then moved on silent feet towards her wardrobe as she pulled her bloody nightgown from her body.

She had things to do. There were _always_ things to do.

* * *

Rey was returning from her excursion to the city a couple of hours later, empty bread basket in hand, when she caught sight of Kylo's shuttle through the open doors of one of the castle hangar bays. She remembered what he had said about the… body of Naseer and his sister's devastation and refusal to leave her brother's body, and frowned in thought.

She was sure the man had come straight to her, with little or no thought to arrangements for the body or for his two knights.

And that was okay. It was understandable.

Yet something still needed to be done; someone needed to see to them, to help them, to make sure that _they_ were okay.

So Rey changed course, moving swiftly towards the hangar, yellow skirts billowing around her as the wind caught and pulled at the light fabric. Her two guards for the day, Abaranne and Kaiyah, switched direction without comment, though Rey could feel slight tension suffuse the air around them as the two women caught sight of where they were headed. It was a mark of their training, however, that they didn't reach for the hilts of their swords or the holsters containing their blasters.

Rey let a small smile play at her lips—she really liked these two. Competent but also witty, inclined towards humor rather than seriousness, but knowing when to set it aside.

Her kind of people.

As they rounded the base of the ship, the ramp slowly began to lower, a slight hiss and waft of steam heralding its descent.

Rey waited patiently, glad that she wouldn't have to go scavenging for an errant knight or two.

She caught sight of a person standing at the top of the ramp but didn't look up until the ramp was fully lowered. Finally, she raised her eyes and took in the red-headed human woman standing at the top. Their gazes met and locked, and the other woman didn't back down.

Point in her favor—Rey liked gumption and confidence.

The woman inclined her head briefly, and Rey did in turn, and then the fair-skinned woman began to make her way down the ramp. She was about the same height as Rey was, but more filled out with muscle tone. She carried herself like a warrior, but with a heavier tread than many. Once both feet were on the ground, the woman took a knee, held it for a moment, and then lifted herself up once more as she greeted Rey. "Your highness, it is an honor to finally make your acquaintance. Lord Ren has told us tales of your beauty and courage, and I must say that he has not made a liar of himself as it pertains to the former."

She gave Rey a lopsided grin, tilting her head just slightly to the side, and Rey found her lips quirking upwards in return almost instinctively. The woman seemed to be genuine in her compliment, and Rey found herself quite unsure of what to make of Kylo having said such things to a woman such as this one was. So instead, she moved on, filing the thought away for later as she smiled. "You must be Savat Ren, then," Rey returned.

"I am," the woman replied easily, settling into a relaxed pose, feet shoulder-width apart, ready for anything but not looking on edge. It was a neat trick, and one Rey planned to learn.

"Kylo's second, yes?" she asked.

Savat nodded. "Yes, highness, I am his second amongst the hierarchy of the Knights of Ren."

"Please, call me Rey." She blushed slightly, still not used to the title. She was much better at accepting it from the politicians and courtiers she encountered on a daily basis, but she had a feeling that she and Savat, as Kylo's second, would be encountering each other a lot, and she couldn't handle someone calling her 'highness' to her face under friendlier circumstances.

That is, if Savat were to be trusted…

Rey couldn't show her hand, yet, but she could start to feel out the circumstances of this other woman, and where her loyalty lay.

Savat was looking at her a touch oddly, and Rey blinked, then smiled, trying to recall where the conversation had left itself. "I insist," she finally added.

The older woman inclined her head, and said, "If you insist, Lady Rey." Rey could swear there was a sparkle in the other woman's eyes, and Rey rolled her eyes at her playfully. Savat continued, a smile pulling at her lips for a moment before smoothing out into something more serious, "Lord Ren is the one I answer to, my lady, and if you have need of anything, you have but to ask. I am at his service, and now I am at yours as his wife."

"Thank you," Rey murmured. She answered to Kylo? Perhaps that meant… well, they would wait and see. "I will keep that in mind, Lady Ren. Now," Rey clapped her hands together once in readiness. "I am here to offer _my_ assistance." Her voice grew softer. "And to pay my respects. We can house the… we can house Naseer in our cryo-chambers until such a time as is appropriate to make further decisions regarding funereal or memorial ceremonies—unless something has already been decided?" Rey tilted her head inquisitively.

"Nothing has been determined," a new voice cut in.

Rey looked up as Savat turned her body slightly to take in the figure standing at the top of the ramp. She was a skinny woman, though Rey could tell that it was all lean muscle, much like she had been like right after Jakku. Her long black hair was a complete mess, surrounding dark skin that still seemed ashen and sickly—from grief, most likely, if Rey were to guess—but her eyes… they were red-rimmed, likely from crying, but even still Rey couldn't help but to think that they were the most intensely blue eyes she had ever seen. Even from a distance.

And they were filled with despair and hatred so strong that Rey nearly recoiled. But at the last moment she was able to control herself, and instead tempered her response to something much more welcoming.

"You must be Anath," Rey greeted gently. "I know that nothing I can say will make anything right again, Lady Anath, but I am here to offer whatever else I can in order to assist you. I will have chambers prepared for you and Lady Savat, near to my own and… Lord Ren's, if you so wish. If there is anything else I can do—"

"Let me kill the bastard," Anath hissed, moving down the ramp with a sudden fierceness and effortless grace that spoke of decades of training. Rey was struck again by the stark contrast of her blue eyes rimmed by red, and yet she still wondered idly if Naseer had been as beautiful as his twin. They would have made quite the pair, beautiful to see in action on a battlefield…

"I—" Rey hesitated and glanced towards Savat once more. "I'm not sure who I should let you kill."

Anath took another step forward, the Force roiling with deep, unrelenting pain and anger and hatred, and Rey made a quick, subtle motion to her guards by her hip, ordering them to let the woman be.

Anath was dangerous, yes, and incredibly emotional, but she was completely and utterly in control of herself and the Force. It was, honestly, a little stunning to watch—especially after having witnessed a few of Kylo's emotional outburst, and heard of many others from his family.

"You know exactly who," Anath pressed, glaring at Rey defiantly as she finally came to a standstill before her and Savat. "Kylo told us much about you. I don't know what your plan is, or even if you have one, but I know enough about you to know you will never allow a monster like him to roam the galaxy freely. I don't care what you do or how, but I want to be the one to strike the killing blow. Let me remind that son of a bitch why he chose me and my brother—and why he should fear me now."

Rey swallowed thickly and glanced towards Savat, who had remained quiet during Anath's plea, and was only somewhat surprised to find the same anger and the same hatred boiling in her eyes as well.

Snoke had taken a family and tried to tear them apart. He'd torn Anath's heart to shreds so efficiently that Rey was almost sure the woman was literally bleeding into the Force strongly enough for even Luke to feel without looking for it. The monster had almost succeeded in breaking Kylo, also.

All with a tremendous lack of understanding the human spirit, human _love_ for family, andall without realizing there would be unforeseen consequences.

He'd underestimated Kylo's love for and loyalty to Naseer, Anath and Savat, and it would be his downfall.

"I'll do whatever I can to help you," she reiterated slowly, keeping her eyes locked on Anath's as she spoke, ensuring the other woman would grasp her meaning. Sometimes one must trust first, before being given proof on if someone could be trusted or not—was that not the very nature of what trust meant?

She was certain that she could trust them—at least as far as Snoke was concerned… and at least as far as the safety of Kylo was concerned.

It was clear that they trusted and loved one another, and that they had been through so _much_ together.

That sort of thing forged near-unbreakable bonds.

* * *

He was empty.

He felt drained, emotions swept up by the Force and carried away from him—at least for the moment.

Kylo wasn't sure how he felt about that. On one hand, the lack of emotions pulling him in every which direction was a relief, but on the other hand… he deserved the pain and chaos—the same pain and chaos he had felt from Anath earlier through the Force, but had been unable to grab hold of and take for his own like he _deserved_. He _did_.

Because it was his _fault_.

But he hadn't had the energy at the time to help his knight, and he still didn't have the energy to care about anything, not even himself; he didn't have the room inside him.

It had been like that since he woke that morning—from the moment he opened his eyes to blood-stained sheets and _remembered_. Remembered everything that had happened, from before the death to after, to flying here and sweeping desperately into Rey's rooms, hoping for understanding, for comfort, for _compassion_.

And she had given it to him.

Had given him more than he expected—more than he _deserved_.

Because she was… Rey.

The sound of curtains being pushed aside should have had him spinning, reaching for his weapons, or at least turning around to assess the danger, but… he just didn't _care_ anymore. Instead, he stayed where he was, leaning against the railing of the balcony overlooking one of the castle's many gardens.

He did, however, catch movement out of the corner of one eye, and he glanced over without moving his head.

Luke.

His uncle.

Luke was leaning against the balcony a number of paces away from Kylo, staring at the garden and the courtiers and staff who were moving about within it. His uncle, with whom their last meeting hadn't gone so well.

And yet he kept silent. Both of them did.

Kylo was too tired to care about what the man was doing there, but trusted the man enough—did he truly, or did he just have no preservation instinct anymore, Kylo wondered absently—not to attack or kill him while they were on Itamar.

He was too tired to wonder what the other man was up to, what his purpose was for coming out there with him, though he was sure that the man had felt him last night, and Anath earlier, and had gone looking for the cause, as he was wont to do.

And there he was.

Long minutes passed, silence between them, though Kylo could feel his uncle through the Force, subtly testing the currents around him.

Kylo didn't even bother pulling his emotions back—let the man make of that what he will.

Finally, the older man spoke. "Would you care to spar tomorrow?" He paused, and then added, "Rey will be there, but we can arrange another time if you so wish. I…" And he cut himself off before finishing his thought.

Kylo was sure he knew what the other man had been about to say, and he was grateful that Luke hadn't finished his sentence. It was already enough that the other man had seen him, _felt_ him, like this. It would have been too much if he had put into words the _pity_ and understanding that Kylo could easily sense were below the surface.

That alone, the man's surprising tact, surprised him enough that he found himself nodding, silently accepting the offer.

He could use a chance to let off some steam. Sparring always helped. _Always_.

And sparring with Luke, or with Rey?

He found himself perking up for the first time all day, even if only slightly.

Yet still he said nothing, and Luke said nothing, and that was just fine with him.

* * *

"I am dying," her grandfather suddenly announced.

Rey's tea nearly sloshed right out of her cup. She carefully placed the cup down on the table, and then looked up at the old king, her eyes wide. Her aunt and uncle, Miron and Tivona, set their cups down just as carefully, but they kept silent, letting the man speak to his granddaughter.

Rey met Abimilech's gaze and she couldn't help her mind flashing over all the times she'd seen him over the last few months. He had looked sicker, frailer, each time, and Rey had noticed it… but she hadn't _noticed_ it. Not enough for her to even stop to think that the man was near to dying. He was in his eighties, but surely that wasn't _so_ old…

"What?" was all she could choke out.

"It has been coming for a while now, my child," the king said gently. "I have known for a while, but it is time that you— _all_ of you—" His eyes flicked over Tivona and Miron. "—know what is coming. For the sake of unity as a family, and so that we may better prepare," he explained.

"But surely there is—" Rey protested.

"No, U'Rey, there is nothing that can be done," the king interjected gently.

"What about the Fo—"

"No," he said sharply, his eyes glinting hard. "It is my time, U'Rey. Let it be. You are here now."

"I can't lose you too!" Rey choked out, tears starting to pool in her eyes. Soon, they would overflow and chase down her cheeks, but Rey didn't care. She didn't _care_ , because she was going to lose another family member _just_ when they had found each other.

Tivona gripped one of Rey's hands in hers, but kept quiet as she stroked her fingers across Rey's knuckles in an attempt to soothe her.

Her uncle placed a hand on Abimilech's wrist, and asked him, "What can we do to help prepare?"

The king reached out with his free hand and took Rey's other hand in his. "We must ensure that Rey is ready to be queen. I have every confidence in her." He squeezed her fingers gently. "Yet there are many things that must be done." He paused a moment, and then requested gently, "Rey, look at me."

She slowly lifted her eyes to meet his, and when she did, he smiled at her. "It has been my honor to know you and _love_ you, child."

Rey let loose a sob, her shoulders hunching over and shaking, but she refused to look away from him even as her eyes were overrun with tears. "I love you, too, grandfather," she whispered.

Turning her hand over in his, she laced her fingers with her grandfather's. She breathed in and out, and then smiled tremulously. "Teach me how to be the best I can be, grandfather. I won't let you down."

Abimilech's smile widened just a little bit more, and yet she could see tears threatening to spill down his own cheeks. "I know you won't, Rey. I know you won't."

* * *

 **Note: Please be safe everyone. I love you.**


	16. Chapter 16

After her tea-time with her grandfather had easily bled into suppertime, Rey and her aunt and uncle had stayed to dine with the ailing older man, continuing their planning session well beyond their originally allotted time.

As she walked back to her room, she felt slightly dazed, shocked by the fact that she had somehow _missed_ her grandfather's failing health, and by how rapidly it seemed to be declining.

The idea of losing another family member, so soon after they'd _finally_ been reunited was unreal, and she found she couldn't quite come to terms with it. The loss, she was sure, would be much greater, because she could _remember_ her grandfather, and she _loved_ him and it _hurt_ —it hurt _so_ deeply—already.

Loss was never easy, and after what she had been through…

One would think she had become inured to loss, but one would be _wrong_.

She took her time walking back to her wing of the palace, pausing to stare sightlessly out of the windows placed regularly along the castle's outer walls. On any other day, Rey would have enjoyed walking idly through the castle, staring out at the lovely view—gardens and brightly colored city rooftops peeking over the edge of the castle complex's walls as the last rays of sunlight slanted across them—but today she was consumed by an increasing sensation of fear and loss.

She was losing another family member, after years of dealing with her abandonment on Jakku. Even though she now knew that she had been lost on Jakku after her uncle, Saul, had left her there for safety, and then been killed himself… and oh how _that_ loss, her mother's brother, _Rey's_ blood, had hit her hard as well… But Saul had been the only one who knew where she was, so his death made her abandonment on Jakku easier to understand.

Yet it didn't erase over a decade of thinking that she had been left there by family who had never come back. The underlying hope had always been that they were alive and that they were coming for her—but that hope had, over time, been increasingly mixed with anger and despair that they were alive and _weren't coming back for her_. Abandonment. Not wanted. Not needed. Not desired. Not _loved_. Not enough. Not at _all_.

But… Rey knew it wasn't his fault. It was simply the way life was—or, the will of the Force, if one believed every word that came out of Luke's mouth.

Not that she did.

But with all of that swirling around within her, distracting her, nearly overwhelming her… she felt like she had already lost her grandfather.

Arguably, Rey knew she hadn't—not _yet_ —but he was living on borrowed time. His body was failing him, and he was closer to death than anyone but his loyal physician knew. He refused to let Rey heal him—or Luke, since Rey honestly didn't know how to do it—and Rey despaired at the fact that there was the possibility of something being able to help him, and not being _allowed_ to do so.

It was his time, he'd said.

Now that he'd found her, and he could see and trust that she would be a wise, just, and capable ruler, it was time to let go, he said. He'd been holding on for so long, and he was tired of fighting, and he was just so glad that there would be no war of succession if he passed, now.

Rey had been pleased at the compliments, but only briefly, her mind quickly back to feeling sorry for herself.

And she knew she was doing just that.

She was sad for her grandfather, but he assured her that he had led a long and fulfilling life—though one not unmarred by grief and strife, as his sorrow for her parents' murders, the death of his _son_ , evinced. No, Rey was sad for herself, nearly as much as she was for her grandfather. She was losing him, nearly as soon as she had found him. She didn't always agree with or get along with him, but she loved him.

That was clear and true to her.

She would miss him… but it was more than that… more than she'd ever thought possible, and she was going to lose him, and he wouldn't let her—

No.

She breathed deeply, trying to settle herself.

Rey just needed to accept her grandfather's will, and try to soak up as much time as she could with him as possible.

Before he was _gone_.

Just… gone.

She had seen death before, but it had never been this _personal_. Yes, there was Han… but she had only known him for what felt like a single day before he had been snatched away from any possibility of friendship with her.

That was as close as it had ever come to her, even including her parents. When she had been told of their deaths, it was as if she had always known, and had simply needed to hear confirmation. She had never known them, not truly, and so could only truly feel the loss vicariously through her new family.

But now it was here for someone she truly cared for.

Rey sighed, dragging her feet along the carpet as she walked back towards her suite, and went over all the duties she would be starting to add to her already fairly full list of responsibilities. Meetings, council sessions, court, disaster relief and planning, economy and law lessons, and so much _more_.

She was tired already.

She was glad to be able to help, but she was _tired_.

And, frankly, the added responsibility _scared_ her. She wasn't used to being scared, but she had no compunction admitting to it when it did occur—especially to herself.

The weight of her crown had never been as avidly clear as it was then.

The time she had to herself would decrease dramatically, and she would be asked to occupy herself with things she felt completely out of her depth with, like the upcoming ball for Itamaran orphans.

She was very pleased the charity existed and she would be more than happy to donate whatever she could to the cause, and would be happy to personally attend the ball to bring notoriety to it—her _first_ ball, and _oh_ how the thought of it scared her, but she would _do_ it. She would go, just for the cause alone. But to be able to support it… That made it all the better.

She had worked personally with the matrons of the orphanages in the city over the past couple of months, and their work was everything that Rey wished for for children who were displaced or orphaned.

Her only reservation now was that she'd be expected to attend as the primary delegate for the royal house, in light of the king's absence. It was a hefty role, and she wasn't sure if she were ready yet—if ever.

She was also expected to sit in on a meeting with the Royal Council, except for the first time she would be a participant in the discussions there, rather than a silent observer. She would also have to be the one to announce her grandfather's… his impending…

She would have to inform them that he would not be there anymore sooner than any of them would like. They had to plan how to handle the slow release of information so as not to shock and scare Itamarans, how to handle the lead up to Rey taking control of more and more duties that had been her grandfather's responsibility, how to plan for a coronation in the wake of a funeral and period of mourning, how to…

So many things to do with the Royal Council.

But the thing that Rey feared the most?

Making decisions of a political nature—especially as it pertained to decisions which would directly impact Itamar, its people, and their allies.

And doubly so when those decisions could, and likely _would_ , mean _war_.

Rey would have to walk a tightrope where it pertained to the First Order, as well. They were their… allies, she supposed, though only in a small way, and oh how odd that was, even now… but there were so many things about them that Rey strongly disagreed with.

Especially Snoke. Especially after what he did to Kylo. To his friend. To… to _everyone_.

He was the true threat, and he needed to _go_.

But she needed all the information before she acted. She needed to _know_ , to _prepare_ , so that she could protect her people and friends and allies to the best of her abilities.

She was _not_ ready, she was not—

"Rey!" a child's voice suddenly cut into her thoughts.

Focusing her gaze, she looked away from the window, further down the hall, and saw her cousin Raonaid running towards her, full tilt, her blue skirts held up and away from her feet by her small fists. She immediately breathed deep and centered herself, wishing desperately that she had brought BB-2 along with her to help her stay calm, and was ready when the nine year old slammed to a stop before her.

"What is it?" Rey asked quickly.

"Come!" was all the girl could get out between her pants. "The prince!"

And then she was off like a shot, back again in the direction she'd come from, and Rey was right on her heels, throwing all of her other thoughts out of her mind, her own yellow skirts held off of the ground so that she could move just as quickly.

She reached out into the Force and tried to feel for that small, peculiar connection to Kylo, but it was shut down tight—she might not know much about what this… thing was inside her mind that connected her to Kylo, but she knew that it was different than when she felt Luke in the Force, or Leia, or even the other two knights.

She would have to ask Luke about… whatever it was, later.

Reaching out again, she could feel the vague signatures of Savat and Anath at that moment—though not like she could feel Kylo, even with it, the _bond_ , shut down—and they seemed agitated, concerned, and angry in turn. More than they had before, and that was saying something in Anath's case. She was still flooding her anger and trauma into the Force, so much so that Rey could feel it sweeping out towards her, and towards Luke, who was a quieter presence elsewhere, threatening to wash over her like an unstoppable tidal wave.

Something had set Anath off; had set all three knights off.

She sped up when she turned the corner and was met with the startling, and quite frankly _frightening_ sight of Kylo bracing himself against the wall, as though he'd fall over if he let loose for but a second.

Rey moved faster than she thought she could in skirts, nearly colliding with Kylo as she reached his side. "Kylo? What is it? What's wrong?" she fired out at him. Rany stood between her and her husband, her small hand on top of the tall man's fist clenched into the side of his pants. She looked concerned, and Rey was grateful that the child had been there; that she had happened upon Kylo before any staff had come upon him. Rany seemed to like the man, from the few encounters they'd had—ones Tivona had shared with Rey, looking fond as she spoke of her child trying to engage the knight.

Said knight looked ready to keel over, and it wouldn't have done for him to do so in the middle of the hall—even if they were in the family wing.

Kylo pulled himself away from the wall with effort and met Rey's eyes. They were unfocused, and Rey wasn't sure that he was quite aware that she was standing in front of him. Reaching down, Rey pulled both of his hands into hers, forcing Rany to drop her own in the process, and the man barely reacted.

"Rany, thank you. I'll take it from here," she said gently, never looking away from the other man.

"But—" the child began.

"It's okay, I'll take care of him," she reassured her cousin.

"Okay," the girl said hesitantly. "You'll let me know if he's okay, right? _When_ he's okay?" She quickly corrected her question as she stepped away again.

"I will," Rey promised, knowing Rany's concern was genuine. "Thank you. Again."

As soon as the girl was out of sight down the hall, Rey tugged on Kylo's hands and pulled him towards her room—well, _their_ room, now. He went without hesitation, without complaint, but it was almost as if he was on autopilot. Rey tried again to reach out towards the small bundle that was Kylo in the Force, in her mind, but he was still locked down tightly, as were his expressions when she glanced at him every few moments as he trailed behind her, tethered by her hand.

It wasn't until she had him tucked into bed, Kylo still staring sightlessly ahead, that she asked what had happened, though she suspected she knew. There was only one thing, at this time, which would make Anath this angry, and Savat feel so desperately angry _and_ furiously protective.

One _thing_ that was a person.

She much preferred calling him a _thing_ , however.

It was what he deserved.

… Actually, he deserved much less.

Deserved _nothing_.

"What happened? Who did this to you?" she asked, anyway.

"Snoke," Kylo murmured tiredly.

"Ah," Rey hummed, glancing at him as she moved towards her wardrobe door.

He hadn't moved an inch, and was not even looking towards her.

Rey found herself _missing_ the cocksure ways of the Prince of Alderaan. She _missed_ the way he smiled, as if he had every right to be as confident as he was, as daring and dashing as he was.

She missed the life that she had seen in his eyes—the _light_ that had appeared there on occasion, especially when he looked at—

 _Stars,_ Rey thought. It certainly wasn't the time to think of _that_ right then.

Breathing in deeply and letting her breath go slowly, she stepped behind the wood and dressed herself in another of her ridiculously soft nightgowns— _Force_ , she still wasn't used to that—as she mulled over what could have happened. "Did he…?" she began, trailing off as she didn't quite know how to put her thoughts into words.

Kylo's mind may have been safe, but that did not mean Anath or Savat's were.

"No, he didn't get anything," he replied slowly, his voice rasping. "I didn't let him. Didn't let… him see anything. Nothing. Didn't let him see Anath and Savat either. Shielded… shielded them from him… still _am_. He… he doesn't know they're… they're here." He sounded as if sleep was taking over, and she glanced out from behind the door to see that his eyes were indeed fluttering shut. "But they felt… felt him. Him… He still thinks… they're… I'm his…"

She let the words sink in, and then finally asked, boldly, remembering her conversation with Anath and Savat earlier that day, "And are you? Are you his?"

A pause, and Rey could see the look of revulsion and anger and… and _fear_ upon his face—thank the Maker, she thought; at least he wasn't giving her that dead, sightless look anymore. The expressions all matched up with the trickle of emotions that he was suddenly letting through to her, through that… connection. Whatever it was. But the emotions were so genuine, so unadulterated, that she didn't challenge him when he said, vehemently, "No. _No_. Not anymore. _Never again_."

"Good," was all she could find within her to say.

Rey moved towards the bed, and watched his face, thinking of _everything_ and _nothing_ at all as she watched his featured relax into sleep.

After another few moments, Rey stood, slowly so as not to wake him, and then moved back to finish what she'd been doing.

She hung her clothes up and closed the doors to the wardrobe, making her way to the couch in her sitting room. She would sleep there for the night and let him get some rest. She had to wake early, in any case, and didn't want to risk waking him when he so obviously needed the sleep.

They had time to work everything out. All the particulars.

She wasn't sure about where exactly he stood, but at least she knew where he _didn't_ stand.

It was a start.

* * *

"You're doing well, Rey," Tivona said quietly, but proudly, as they left the Royal Council chambers. They were the first to leave, as heir to the throne and as royal family member and advisor, and so they had no one else in front of them as they walked out of the hall. They strolled slowly, as they would be parting ways at the next corridor crossing.

Rey smiled tentatively in response. "Thank you," she said, humbly. "I am trying, but it is… difficult sometimes to reconcile where I was raised—or rather, _not_ raised—with ruling. I feel sometimes as if I am two parts and I am trying to make them fit now, and it… I feel like it doesn't work, sometimes, aunt," she admitted, her voice dipping down quietly.

Tivona gave her a look, but it was kind. "I believe that your childhood and what you learned on Jakku is something that you can use—and _are_ using—to your advantage in politics, Rey." They kept walking, though Rey kept her eyes focused on her aunt more than on the hall before her.

The Force could be useful at times for multitasking, she had found out a while back with great amusement.

"It has taught you strength and confidence, which allows you to stand your ground," Tivona continued. "It has taught you how to negotiate, how to survive, how to live in a place where people wish to take advantage of you and perhaps—or rather, _likely_ —wish to kill you. These things and many more skills are with you and always will be, and I believe that they are _strengths_ , not weaknesses. You will find a way to reconcile them, but I believe that seeing them as strengths will assist you in that."

Rey simply nodded, mulling the idea over in her head. They fell quiet, Tivona knowing her niece enough by now not to push a topic when Rey responded with silence.

Finally they reached the spot where they would part, and Tivona rested her fingers lightly on Rey's fabric-covered forearm. "Sweetheart, if you need anything, please come to me. I…" She looked around briefly, and then continued, "I once experienced the same loss, and was aware of it long before it finally occurred. It is not quite the same, but…"

"Thank you," Rey interrupted, though not unkindly. "I will, if I have need, Tivona. Thank you. For everything you do." She smiled at the older woman, her uncle's wife, and then they both nodded to each other, and turned to go their separate ways.

As she walked, Rey was filled with the same thoughts as the night before, reminded of her grandfather's impending death.

He hadn't said when it would be, or how long, or what they were doing to make his life easier. He hadn't even told them _what_ it was that was slowly killing him, and Rey could feel her whole body begin to shake in a way that it hadn't before.

Her eyes widened, feeling a wave of grief well up in the Force; a wave of distress.

Rey hadn't felt it before—she was keeping her own grief and distress locked up tight inside using techniques Luke had taught her before… before everything had _changed_.

It must be Anath. The knight must have just woken up, or perhaps something had sent her headfirst down into the pit of despair, which she had been teetering on the previous day. The one she had barely been holding herself back from.

But now… oh _Force_ … the despair swirling in the Force had slammed right into Rey. She staggered under the weight of the borrowed pain…

And then it wasn't borrowed any longer.

The grief Anath was throwing into the Force—likely without realizing it—had picked up Rey's own grief and fear of loss, of _death_ , and had morphed it into something _more_.

It took all of her fears and made them worse, and soon Rey wouldn't be able to contain herself anymore.

She needed to let it out. Needed a place to safely collapse under the weight of her emotions.

Rey ran for her suite, not caring who saw her—the staff knew how to keep quiet in the family wing, in any case—and knowing that Kylo had woken hours ago and gone… somewhere. But he wasn't in her rooms.

But BB-2 was.

Her trusty little droid, the one who had been there for her when Kylo had first left in the aftermath of their disastrous first morning together. She had learned that he was created with friendship and therapy protocols in place, and hadn't been able to drum up any anger at Leia for the fact that she had basically been insinuating she needed _therapy_ when she had given her the droid to bring along with her.

She wasn't upset—she was _glad_ to have BB-2.

Rey needed him. She needed a friend in this still-strange world.

In this _lonely_ world, as it was at times.

Even with Luke here. Rey and he were friends, aside from being teacher and student, but there were just some things she felt she couldn't open up to him about. Like the fact that Kylo had come back to her; had come to her for solace in the wake of the man he considered a brother being murdered before him by the monster whom he had followed for a decade or longer.

Or the fact that when she had cleaned him, had held him against her in her— _their_ —bed, she had been nearly overcome by something she dared not name. Something she couldn't think of too long, though she would admit to her _compassion_ for him.

And now… now she believed him when he said that Snoke was no longer his Master, that he would no longer follow him, and she wasn't quite sure how to say any of that to Luke, his uncle.

Just as she was unsure how to tell Luke about the impending death of her grandfather… he _had_ no grandfather. How could he even hope to understand?

How could _she_ hope for him to understand?

Although… she had to admit that she truly knew very little about Luke and Leia's family, of Han's place in it, and of their love of their nephew and child, Ben. She only knew of their devastation over the loss of Han… but that was different.

Wasn't it?

Anath's pain welled up and surged forward, causing her to choke on the sorrow and rage and grief and hatred and brittle _exhaustion_ of the other woman, sobs wrenching from her throat as she raced the last few steps to her door, guards trailing slightly behind her, quiet, not interfering…

How could she tell Luke about that, about how it made her feel inside, as if _she_ were Anath, as if _she_ had lost her twin, her bond mate, and then swirling around within her and mixing with the grief and loss that Rey was already feeling for her grandfather?

She didn't know how to tell Luke.

But she knew how to tell BB-2.

She slammed the doors shut behind her, sliding down the inside of them, back pressed against the wood, and then within moments BB-2 was there, pushed tightly against her side, trilling and beeping at her softly, gently, to tell her what was wrong, that he was there for her, that he could _help_ if only she would let her.

Rey opened her mouth, and began to whisper, mouth pressed against the little droid's head.

* * *

 **Note: Thank you, as ever, to my lovely and loyal beta Annaelle. She's studying for exams and yet she still makes time for me. That being said, she can't edit at all this next week starting tomorrow, so I wrote chapter 17 ahead of time as well. I haven't quite gone through Annaelle's edits yet, but it'll be ready to post next week! Should mean I'll be able to spend more time with my grandparents, but who knows. :P Writing is addictive.**

 **For those who are interested, my Reylo babyfic, called I'd start a war for you, is nearing its end. I am almost done writing! The last three chapters are outlined fully and just ready and waiting to be written and expanded. :) My A/B/O fic called Haze is also nearing its end as well.**

 **My Marvel female Tony Stark fic is moving along very nicely, also! I'm really enjoying writing that one. If you enjoy soulmate/mark fics and time-travel (to WWII) fics, hopefully you would enjoy my fic! :D**

 **Oh! And my lovely PerryDowning has released a new fic called Decision. It sounds tragic but it's not. It has a happily ever after, I promise.**

 **I hope everyone is enjoying their end of summer. Or DID enjoy, if you're back in school. I'm sure many of you parents are breathing sighs of relief hahaha.**

 **Much love. I'll see you next week with chapter 17! xoxo**


	17. Chapter 17

She was exhausted.

She was exhausted from all of the lessons and meetings she'd had that day, and yet there she was, still training with Luke.

It was something they tried to do at least every other day, but she would likely have to rethink their plans together since her responsibilities had increased so much with the advent of her grandfather's—

"He won't let me heal him!" she growled out suddenly, frustration born from helplessness welling up inside her. She barely dodged an overhanded blow from Luke's green lightsaber. She ran towards him and angled herself downwards in a sliding tackle, using said frustration to channel her slide, and powering down her 'saber for the brief period of time where she brought her hands down to guide her course. She activated it again as she jumped to her feet after tripping him—he was good, but a little slower than her, and that was a new move she'd learned from her uncle Miron just last week.

He flashed her a thumbs up and then immediately gripped his 'saber with both hands again, darting forward to meet her with a mid-level blow. She blocked him, and then grunted out, "He won't even entertain the idea."

Luke knew about her grandfather's failing health even before she'd told him.

He had sensed something off about the man's aura in the Force when he had first met him, but hadn't known what exactly was wrong until Rey had told him at the beginning of their training session, her mind clear on how to approach Luke on the topic after BB-2 had comforted and consoled her. Luke hadn't been surprised, but had held Rey close when she collapsed into tears in front of him—and then had reassured her when she had gotten angry at herself for her tears.

Rey hated crying.

It wasn't something she did often, and always felt badly of herself in the wake of said tears, but Luke had made her feel as if they were only natural. That it was _okay_ , and that she could trust him. That she could fall to pieces in front of him and that he would never tell, would never take advantage, would never hold it against her.

The fact that he had cried with her made her believe him all the more.

And he had. He had cried for her, cried for her pain and grief, and had even cried for the man who was her king and grandfather; the last of her direct family line. The first of her family to die that she could remember.

Luke understood her better than she had thought he would. She had forgotten, in her own grief, that he had lost, as well. That he had seen death, and tragedy, and war. But, most importantly, that he had lost his _own_ close family. Those who were blood, and those who had raised him.

She was ashamed that she had let her own troubles cloud her from those of her companions.

But he had brushed off her apologies and let her cry, and then had helped her release her pain and grief and even anger into the Force.

But, well, apparently the anger was back—although much more muted, she had to admit. Still, she could feel it welling up inside of her, threatening to overtake her as she sparred with her Master.

They circled each other, testing the other with small thrusts, parries, and blocks, while Luke was obviously thinking over how to reply to her—and in the meantime, also giving her looks that she knew meant he could feel her anger.

And yet, he didn't say anything to chastise her.

Finally, he spoke. "Itamarans have always had a bit of a healthy fear of the Force. Not enough that they hunt out Force users, obviously, but enough that it's sort of pushed into the background of their culture. Force users, for millennia, who were born within the Itamaran system, were sent away quietly to the Jedi Temple and, after the purge, other Force-using groups. If they ever returned, they were expected to live fairly quietly as it pertained to their use of the Force. Expected to not draw attention to themselves." He paused, and then twisted around her to come at her from a different direction, suddenly, nearly scoring a blow before he pulled his arm back.

She nodded at him, and they reset their stances, and then began their sparring anew.

"Your grandfather," he continued, "grew up in this society, and as a result likely has a fair bit of suspicion or fear about anything to do with the Force."

"But I'm his family!" Rey interjected hotly, her fear of losing the man coming out to the fore once again. "Surely he's not afraid of me!"

As if she'd _ever_ hurt the man.

She _loved_ her grandfather.

"Peace, little one," Luke reminded her calmly, and Rey took a moment to breathe in deeply once, twice, thrice… quelling her anger and fear and feelings of powerlessness… and then Luke continued, again, even as he continued to spar with her. "Your grandfather is a proud man. He is not as afraid or suspicious of Force users as some Itamarans are, but he is _proud_. I have met men like him before, and in fact I have met _him_ before, when Leia was negotiating for… well, you know."

Rey furrowed her brow at the mention of the treaty. She sure _did_ know, and had let Leia have a piece of her mind over a month ago on the topic. She would have stopped then and there to harangue Luke as well, if he hadn't given her an understanding and regretful look.

It seemed he regretted that course; the one that had led to Kylo parting ways with them to join the First Order. It was easy to forget Luke and Kylo—Ben, then—had been much closer than Leia and her son had been, and that Luke had been _hurt_ when Ben betrayed them.

With that in mind, she let it slide, though she filed it away for future use.

Luke continued, sidestepping her quick lunge and thrust as he did, "If it isn't something he can beat on his own, then he wishes nothing to do with it. If it is not something that he can _understand_ , then he will not use it. Medicine, science, are one thing. He is a man of great intellect, and always has been. He is one of the most successful system rulers in the galaxy. He can understand many things, but the Force is another thing entirely for those who do not have access."

He threw himself forward, a flurry of blows raining down upon Rey in quick succession. She simply reacted, using her instincts and trusting in the Force as Luke had taught her, in order to parry and block the strikes that Luke was using against her.

She had no more time to think, let alone think and _talk_.

Rey countered, using every ounce of her concentration to look for an opening. She had to wait, patiently blocking and parrying as the man came at her relentlessly—he had stamina, she'd give him that, and _skill_. She waited, until— _there_. A slight hitch in the rolling overhand strike he used with his left shoulder. She waited until she saw him leading into it again and then—

—and _then_ she darted in, knocking her wrist against his at the point where he had the weakest grip on his 'saber, and it went _flying_. Her free hand gripped his right, pulling it up into as much of a lock as she could with one arm, and her saber was soon at his throat, casting a bright blue glow across his skin and beard.

She grinned at Luke, ecstatic that she'd disarmed him. She very rarely was able to do that, even still, after months of practice.

He inclined his head at her, then grinned right back, slightly chagrined at being caught as he had. "Well done, Rey," he praised. "You've improved a lot. At least I can say with confidence you aren't letting yourself go soft," he teased.

She flushed as she powered her lightsaber down, watching as Luke made his way towards the green glow of his own. He could have called it towards him with the Force, but Rey found that Luke often preferred to do things the hard way.

Or, as he himself called it, the less lazy way.

He maintained that it kept him humble, and Rey could see the benefit of it. If she'd had the Force during her time on Jakku, there were many skills she wouldn't have learned—some of which had helped her escape _Starkiller_.

The Force wasn't _always_ useful.

She suddenly found herself wondering what Kylo felt on that topic, her cheeks heating at the thought of her husband, but quickly pushed it from her mind in favor of responding to Luke.

There was no place for blushing, at the moment; not if she could help it.

"Miron has been teaching me how to use a sword and I've been sparring with him without the Force—well, as best I can. It's been very enlightening—and _tiring_ ," she explained.

Some days she felt like she couldn't move a muscle after her lessons with her uncle and, often, the rest of her personal guard.

"Good!" Luke said. "Now, we'll—" He cut himself off, his eyes tracking towards the doorway as he came to a standstill a few feet away from his lightsaber. Rey's eyes followed his as she turned, and there… there, in the doorway, was Kylo.

Her husband.

The man she'd, moments ago, been thinking of. She felt her cheeks start to redden again.

He was dressed in dark and light grey training garb, and his 'saber was hanging from the belt at his side. His features weren't expressionless, though Rey might have at one time called it that. But she had come to learn who he was, at least a little more than before, and she could see the slight hesitation in the set of his jaw, the nervousness causing his eyes to crease, and the worry that was pulling the corner of his mouth down only slightly.

All this without input from the… whatever it was connecting their minds. He had it shut down tight.

Maybe these were the same tells that he'd had as a boy, or maybe they were new. Either way, Luke finally continued towards his 'saber, bending down to pick it up and switch it off. He straightened, nodding towards Kylo, and motioning him inside. "Come, come inside and sit. We are finished with sparring today, but if you join us tomorrow at four instead of four-thirty, you can practice with us."

Kylo took a step forward, and Rey caught a glimpse of red hair and dark grey fabric accented with light grey—much like Kylo was wearing—behind him. Luke obviously had as well, for he added, "Come in as well, Lady Ren. You can join us for meditation today, and any other day you like. Sparring as well."

Kylo looked back at his second, and Rey could see from the side as he quirked an eyebrow upwards at the other woman. She looked slightly startled, darting a suspicious glance towards the Jedi, but then smiled as her gaze crossed and then met Rey's. Rey nodded her head, adding her permission to Luke's, even though she didn't need to, and Kylo and Savat made their way inside.

Rey didn't ask where Anath was. She knew the woman hadn't left the suite assigned to her and Savat since early yesterday, or so Miron had said, and Rey understood.

She understood mourning.

It was there to see on the features of Kylo and Savat as well, if one knew where to look.

They'd had to deal with Kylo being contacted forcefully by Snoke, their former Master, yesterday, as well. The rage and pain she had felt in the Force from Savat and Anath had kept her up long into the night, until Anath—likely with Savat's help, bless the woman—had slowly started to pull the waves of overwhelming emotion she had created back into herself.

They were all _hurting_ , and Rey was unable _not_ to care.

She wanted to help, even as the pain and grief echoed her own, and sometimes increased it, acting as a catalyst for the growth of her own despair and fear.

Yet at the moment, they had themselves almost fully under control—likely because it felt as if Anath were sleeping.

They all settled comfortably on the floor, cross-legged, hands resting on knees. Although the knights seemed a little hesitant at first, Luke studiously ignored them as he closed his eyes and began to cycle his breathing. Rey quickly followed suit, purposefully closing her eyes and slipping into meditation.

Trying to ignore her husband, even if it wasn't working.

She was always aware of where Kylo was; always aware of his body in relation to hers. She didn't need the Force to tell her where he was; her body knew very well.

Her body _wanted_ him again.

And so did her…

No. Not yet.

She refused, even with everything that had come to light of late.

Rey breathed deeply, gathering her mind up tightly, and settling it forcefully into meditation. It was sometimes the only method that worked for her to get started. As she slipped further into her mind, into the Force, she brushed herself up against the connection within her in a way that meant she wanted in. She had never done that before, only ever observed and felt the spot within her mind. She felt him draw back, startled, as she had never willingly opened herself up to him—it had always been unintentional, or through a half-awake state before—but then he settled again, opening himself up to her.

But only slightly.

It was his turn to be hesitant of her, and she could understand that.

He didn't trust her fully, just as she didn't trust him yet. But he wanted to, she knew. Maybe… maybe she did, as well.

She wanted to believe that he could be saved, that he could become _good_.

And maybe… maybe he could, in time. Maybe he wanted it, too.

Maybe he wanted it _now_.

For the moment, however, she was content enough to let her mind rest gently against his, her peace pushing at his chaos.

"What you have is special."

Luke's voice snapped her out of her calm state, and her eyes shot open as she turned to look at him. Kylo was staring at the man as well, his hands clenched tightly over his knees.

"What?" Rey asked, glancing briefly at Kylo to see the expressionless mask he had put on once again—it made her uneasy, that mask, but she could still sense his emotions through the slight opening he had left open. That, if nothing else, reassured her that he wouldn't do anything rash.

At least for the moment.

She could see Savat opening her eyes slowly in her peripherals, taking in the now-tense forms of the rest of them in the room even as she seemed relaxed.

"Your bond," Luke answered simply.

"Is that what it's called?" Rey asked, her tension turning into curiosity—although, admittedly, there was still some tension remaining. "I don't even really know what it is."

Kylo didn't react at all.

Luke looked between them, likely pondering his next words carefully. "It is… a Force Bond is the most basic of terms used for it. The most understandable way of stating what it is without all the embellishments some Force users are wont to use. But it _has_ had some interesting names throughout history… but you're not interested in that," he cut himself off. "It is something that is found nearly one hundred percent of the time with twins who can wield the Force," he continued.

Rey felt a brief flash of pain from Kylo before it was hidden, and she suddenly realized that Luke and Leia were one such set of twins. Savat leaned forward, elbows on her knees, chin propped on her hands, curiosity flitting across her features.

"But," Luke added, "A weaker version of a Force Bond can be found in long-standing Master-Padawan pairs, as they spend much time in the Force together, training. That is not so common, however, and only about twelve percent of Master-Padawan pairs result in said bond. At least as far as the statistics kept by the Jedi go," he admitted, before moving on swiftly.

"It is rarer still for those who have just met, and who are not a Master-Padawan pair, to form a bond. Less than a single percent—far less as to be nearly negligible—of all known bonds are in the third category. Not Force-using twins, nor Master-Padawan pairs. Your bond falls into that third category."

Rey and Kylo finally looked at each other, their gazes meeting. Rey tilted her head to the side, and Kylo simply stared intently at her, his expressionless mask cracking slightly, interest seeping through the… Force Bond.

" _Starkiller_ ," Rey finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. "When you tried to… And I…" She couldn't quite finish the sentence. Not because she was traumatized—no, _far_ from it. That incident had bolstered her faith in herself, with the way she had pushed back and overcome the odds.

No, she didn't finish the sentence because she had sensed a welling up of sorrow through their connection. Sorrow that he didn't try to hide from her. It was as if he were pushing it towards her.

Rey crawled over to Kylo, not worrying in the least that her dark brown and royal blue tunic and trousers were likely being dirtied and abraded. Not worrying that Luke was right there, as was Kylo's second. He watched her as she moved towards him, not moving an inch himself, but she could sense his curiosity beneath the sorrow he was still projecting. He was not shying away.

Finally she sat herself down in front of Kylo, resuming her meditation pose, but reaching towards him and offering her hands, palm up. She tilted her head at him again, just slightly, and she saw his gaze flick down towards her hands and then back up to her eyes.

After a brief, tense moment, he reached forward and took her hands.

Rey smiled softly at him and then tugged his hands just a little bit more towards her so that she could rest their joined hands upon her knees.

The connection grew stronger and bolder as soon as she touched her skin to his, and she shot a look at Luke, finally remembering that he was there, and could likely provide answers to her burning questions.

"Master Luke, what is a Force Bond _for_?" she queried, even as her grip tightened slightly on Kylo's palm, showing him without words that he should keep them exactly where they were.

He was silent for a long moment, and then, "It helps you know when your bonded is in danger, as it is happening. Sometimes, in bonds that have developed strongly on the long term, they show you what is to occur ahead of time. Prescience, in a way. It can also help you communicate, sometimes in words, though usually in feelings and images. And—"

"It can help you fight together," Savat interrupted, and Rey quickly turned her head to the side to stare at the Lady Ren. "—as your minds sync and you communicate your thoughts to one another. With practice, it creates a nearly unparalleled and unstoppable force. One not to be trifled with." A dark, angry tone seeped into her words near the end, but it was edged with grief.

Anath and Naseer had been twins, Rey suddenly remembered, and very nearly choked on the pain and rage coming from Kylo.

Flinching, Rey turned back towards Kylo, moving her hands so that she could grip his wrists instead. She got to her knees and then let go of one hand so that she could lean forward and press her forehead to his. His free hand moved to grip her hip, though it shuddered with anger and pain, and she swore she could feel her skin sear with heat even with thick layers between his hand and her skin, much as her forehead felt, pressed against his.

She took a deep breath and pushed her calm towards Kylo, much as she had done earlier during meditation. She urged him—using the bond for the first time to communicate an order towards him—to match his breathing to hers, and she cycled through the meditative breathing pattern. It worked, he followed her breaths, and finally he calmed.

And then he stilled, physically, and his mind rested easy as well.

Rey remained exactly where she was, foreheads still pressed together, and whispered, "Better?"

Kylo nodded minutely, but Rey was appeased. He felt much better to her, and now she knew exactly—well, maybe not quite, not _yet_ —what this connection was. What it _meant_. What it could be used for.

"Are you okay?" he whispered back after a few seconds, the room still and quiet around them. His voice was rough, and she could tell he was still holding back tears.

Rey pulled away just enough to catch his eyes. "What do you mean?"

He blinked once, twice, then, "I could sense… I'm sorry… I didn't mean to see. Your grandfather. I'm sorry. Are you alright?" He paused, Rey simply staring at him and not knowing what to say. "Of course you're not alright. That was stupid."

Kylo suddenly pushed away, scrambling to his feet less than gracefully, and turned his back on the three of them still on the floor as he walked towards the small window in the far wall.

Rey could only stare at his retreating back, at a loss for how to respond, and glad that she did not have to.

But the topic _would_ come again, and Rey would have to be prepared.

"We'll work on your bond, and how to use it together with him, at a later time, Rey," Luke said softly, pulling her from her thoughts. He was standing over her shoulder, and he placed his bionic hand on top of her head for a brief moment before drawing it away.

And yet, that brief touch was all the comfort she needed, apparently.

Rey stood, stepping slightly back and away from her Master. He looked at her, and then at Lady Ren. Rey followed his gaze and watched the older woman rise gracefully to her feet from her cross-legged seat.

"Lady Ren," he began, and then waited.

Rey waited as well.

Savat tilted her head, assessing the man, and then nodded once, succinctly.

Luke took it for the cue it was. "The agony of a broken bond between twins is not something that heals on its own," he said slowly, choosing his words slowly, carefully, but speaking them confidently. "The grief and pain and distress of it overwhelms the survivor, and will often carry the other swiftly into the grave after the lost half of their soul—by their own hand, or loss of control of the Force, which can be dangerous to those around the grieving one, or by their body shutting down because it does not realize that it cannot heal something that is not _physical_."

He paused as a look of horror and fear passed across Savat's face, clear as day to both he and Rey. It was quickly reined in, but Rey could see, with this and with what she had seen before, and heard from her guards as to the living situation of the two female knights… that Savat cared deeply for Anath.

That she _loved_ her, perhaps. At the very least as a sister-in-arms, but likely… more.

Before Savat could speak—if she was even going to—Luke stepped forward a few paces, slowly, towards Savat, bridging the gap between them nearly halfway before he stopped. He continued softly, "I have read of survivors of twin Force bonds, and how they managed to do so. It is… a Jedi way, but… it is the only thing that I have to offer." Luke spread his hands wide, palm up, supplicating.

It was not something Rey often saw from the man, but he was a gentle man, and always had been beneath his gruff exterior. He seemed to truly care what happened to these knights, and for their well-being—and for Kylo as well, despite their history looming large above and between the uncle and nephew—and Rey was not entirely sure _why_ he was doing this.

To her knowledge, they had never spoken, or at least Luke hadn't spoken with the women. Perhaps he had with Kylo…?

No matter.

Savat was staring into Luke's eyes, and Rey couldn't tell what she was thinking. The woman wore her mask better than Kylo, at times, but more often than not—at least from what Rey had seen in their brief encounter—the woman was more open than the First Knight.

Former First Knight?

Rey glanced quickly to the window, and realized that Kylo had turned his body slightly, and was listening in. She could feel nothing from him anymore, him having shut down his half of the bond. She did not close her side, instead brushing up against the connection slightly, hoping that he would catch her forgiveness of him—not that it was needed, she felt—for inquiring as to her grandfather.

He had cared enough to ask. To ask if she were okay.

That meant… a lot.

"I will speak to her. I will convince her," Savat finally said. She maintained tight control of her voice and her words, Rey could tell, and she couldn't blame her.

She had just been told that her… friend? partner? lover? would likely die, one way or another, and follow her twin into the depths of the Force.

Luke nodded at her, and she returned it, though stiffly still, and then turned to leave. Kylo strode after her, his steps long but unhurried, and his expression locked up as tight as their bond.

Their bond.

Would… would they follow the other into death too? Would they pull the other after them if they died?

Rey's eyes widened, horrified at the thought, and then pulled it tightly against her.

She didn't even say goodbye, or look at Luke, as she rushed from the room.

She could barely keep herself together long enough to get to her rooms where BB-2 waited.

He would listen. He could help. Just as he had done earlier.

She didn't quite make it to her rooms before the tears started to fall, but at least she held in the sobs until she collapsed on the couch, BB-2 rolling swiftly towards her to help. He always helped. What a sweet droid. So caring. No judgment. Always _there_ for her if she needed him.

And she did.

She was broken inside, the thought of her grandfather's death consuming her again, but joined now with the pain and grief of Anath and her lost Naseer, and with images of Kylo's death.

When had that become a fear for her? When had that changed?

 _How_?

* * *

 **Note: I was going to add in a scene from Kylo's PoV because I know I've been a little Rey-PoV-happy of late - though this _is_ a Rey-centric story - but my hands sort of got trashed yesterday so I didn't write anything extra (this was already written last week). That being said, there will be more Kylo PoVs coming up. I also promise we'll start seeing more juicy romance again soon. ;) I'll see you next week! ****We're heading home today (thank goodness, now I can crash for three days straight).**


	18. Chapter 18

**Note: Re-enter the romance, stage left!**

 **I must admit that my lovely Annaelle wrote about 1,000 words in this chapter the other week, and then I edited over them. Her suggestion sort of ran away with her, and I was happy to accept it. So, thank you Annaelle! You get writing credit for this chapter. Although, honestly, you should get credit for every chapter. You're amazing.**

 **Thank you to Perry_Downing for betaing this chapter because Annaelle is studying for exams! You're amazing.**

 **I hadn't intended to finish this chapter this week but it sort of pulled at me until I suddenly, surprisingly, found my fingers tapping away at the document. xD**

 **Let me know what you think! I've been very nervous with the plot the last few chapters, and I feel like people didn't like it too much! So... back to the romance. I mean, this is all on schedule anyway, but ah! So sorry, all.**

 **Enjoy. xoxo**

* * *

It was barely past dawn.

Kylo had woken early, having fallen asleep on the couch in Rey's— _their_ —room, waiting for her to come… home?

He shook his head lightly, as if to dispel the thought from within. But it was no use. Rey was… he was… they were a mystery. What they were, are, what they could _be_. He didn't know which direction to go with her, all his previous confidence feeling as if it were gone from him for good. His princely, courtly manners, his grace, his poise, his seduction, _everything_ about him… it had all been thrown up into the air and caught in a whirlwind, scattering pieces of him in every which direction.

He wasn't sure who he _was_ anymore. He had never felt more broken, more ill at ease… but at the same time he felt oddly peaceful. As if, for the first time, he was in the right place, with the right people, and everything would _be okay_. That he would be cared for.

He hadn't needed to be cared for since he was a child, barely taller than his mother's shoulders. If not earlier than that.

But… there was something comforting about this. Something he had never expected, but was glad for.

He must have fallen asleep before Rey arrived— _if_ she ever did, because there had been no trace of her when he had woken at four in the morning. He had looked, and her bed had been untouched, her droid's power station empty, and no sign of the clothes she had been wearing the day before in her wardrobe.

He had stopped for a moment to run his fingers along the fabric of the dresses and tunics and trousers, thinking that fate was indeed strange in that a scavenger girl had been a lost princess, of all things, and that she had taken down _Starkiller_ , had become _important_ , without ever knowing of her origins. She had been important and powerful before this… and now she was more. More than he'd ever imagined.

And _his_.

Kylo shook his head, finally dispelling that train of thought—she was not _quite_ his, not in the way that he wanted… but she would be.

He would heal, he would take care of his knights, and then he would set himself to winning her heart; to showing her that he was hers, that he had changed, but that his true self was still there. That it had always been there, hiding beneath the façade he had built to protect himself.

He would atone, and she would be—

"Prince Consort?" a small voice inquired from behind him.

Kylo barely stopped himself from reaching for his 'saber. He had not been paying any attention to his surroundings. His attention had drifted, and it could have been a fatal mistake—he was ashamed of himself for his dangerous lapse, but he still turned to face the owner of the voice.

"Lady Raonaid," Kylo greeted the small child. He let a small smile play at his lips as he nodded at her. She was precocious and intelligent, and he had enjoyed the two separate conversations they had had before, at the wedding and in the hall just the other day.

She reminded him of, well, _him_ at that age.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concern tugging at her eyebrows and a frown drawing her lips downward.

"Walk with me?" Kylo offered. "It is a lovely morning and the gardens are even lovelier. We should not let the work the gardeners have done go to waste." Kylo nodded at Raonaid's mother, the Duchess Tivona, who stood a fair distance away, watching her daughter carefully, but with a smile. Tivona returned the nod, and then followed at a respectable distance as Raonaid fell into step beside him. He made sure to shorten and slow down his strides so that she would not have to run to keep up with his longer legs.

"I am well," Kylo replied, finally, after a minute of walking and taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the gardens.

They truly were magnificent.

"Are you really?" Raonaid asked. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better, right?"

Kylo looked at her askance, and then raised an eyebrow.

Raonaid raised one right back at him… and then stuck her tongue out.

Kylo couldn't hold back the bark of laughter threatening to let loose. "No," he finally said, after he had gotten himself under control. "I'm not just saying that, my lady."

"But you were hurt. Who hurt you?" she pushed.

Kylo kept walking as he thought of how best to reply. It was true, he wasn't truly okay. He had been betrayed, in the worst manner possible. He had done so much for a cause that was a farce, covering the true intentions of the man who pulled the puppet strings. He had killed, he had sacrificed who he'd been, he had _lost_ so much of him. Of who he was.

The man, the monster, had taken everything that the young Ben had wanted to fight against. Had taken everything that had made him betray his uncle, his mother, his _family_ and friends, and had used promises of making the world a better place to hide his true intentions. To hide the _monster_ he was.

And Kylo, Ben, _whoever he was_ at the time, had fallen for it.

Completely.

And then… and then…

Naseer. One of his only true friends. A man who had become _family_.

And then he had forced his way inside Kylo's mind—something he had done before, but never with such ruthless intensity. Searching for what Kylo felt towards him; searching to see if Kylo was still _his_. If he was still _true_ to Snoke, to the First Order.

He wasn't, but Snoke didn't need to know that. So he had hid it, he had played a game of hide and seek with his—now former—master, offering up tidbits here and there so that the monster would not be inclined to seek more than he he'd already found. And all throughout he had hidden that Anath and Savat were here with him. He would protect them; he would protect the remaining members of his family, in any way that he could.

He didn't even stop to think on the image of Rey when he thought of family.

She was his, and he was _hers_.

"Kylo?" A small hand gripped at his much larger one, and he startled out of his thoughts at the touch and the words.

But he did not pull his hand back.

He stopped and turned towards her, bringing his other hand up so that he was clasping her hand between both of his. She tilted her head up to look at him, but he didn't crouch—he knew that she would view it as him patronizing her.

Instead he treated her like the kind-hearted and compassionate lady that she was; age be damned.

"I am not quite alright, Raonaid," he told her solemnly. "But I will be. I have the tools and the people—including _you_ , my lady—to help me. It may be a long journey, but I will get there. I will. Have no fear."

Raonaid just smiled up at him, and he felt his eyes prickling at the sight, seeing some of Rey in her features; some of Rey's uncle in the both of them. It was as if she could be Rey's daughter, and the thought…

The thought did not scare him as much as it might have before.

He squeezed her hand once more, and then dropped one of his, turning to walk further into the garden, the lady at his side.

After a few minutes of silence, Raonaid said, tentatively, as if she were worried he would be mad, "I'm glad you're here. You _are_ here to stay, aren't you?"

Kylo didn't even miss a step as he looked down at her and smiled. "I am. And I'm glad, too."

She hummed her agreement, and then swung his arm back and forth. Kylo let a little laugh escape, pleased at the childish gesture. It worked to distract him from the morass that was his mind, at least for the moment.

He'd take it.

* * *

She had been so filled with fire, even just the day before, but now it was as if Anath was a completely different person. Her skin looked pale and ashen, her eyes rimmed with red but also with deep bruises below, and her hair was a tangled mess. She was barely discernible in the Force now—so different from the inferno she was yesterday—her presence a mere ember, slowly dying, slowly falling apart…

Savat slowly pulled the brush through Anath's hair, and Kylo watched, his expression carefully schooled, as she tended her partner.

"You look as if she's left us already, Kylo." Savat's voice was loud in the silence of the room. Apparently his features hadn't been as controlled as he'd thought they'd been.

"She almost has," Kylo whispered, blinking his eyes a few times to clear them. There was no need to hide his true self with these two. Not anymore.

They had been close before, but he had always held himself apart from even his three closest knights, as the First Knight, and also as the apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke. They had been there for him, had patiently helped him through many things, he realized now… Had always been there for him.

He just hadn't realized how much he _needed_ them—how much he _craved_ a family of his own. A family who accepted him as he was, not who he had been before.

They were it… and perhaps Rey, too, one day… Seeing the destruction of this Bond, the slow slide into death of Anath—vibrant, lively, _passionate_ Anath, who loved her brother, and loved Savat—it made him fear for Rey. Fear for what would happen to her should he die.

He could so easily picture her in Anath's place, her light vanishing under grief—even grief for a man she never wished to be Bonded to.

It was the first time he had ever cursed the Bond that had bloomed to life on _Starkiller_.

"Can you think of anything else we can do?" Savat asked after a few minutes. She set the brush aside and then started to separate Anath's black locks into three sections on one side, leaving the other side for a second braid. Her hands were gentle, and her eyes were filled with tears. Anath was past responding beyond a few words here and there, but every so often she would slip into… _this._ Whatever it was. It was almost as if she were sleeping with her eyes open, and the sight was rather _disquieting_.

"No," Kylo replied, his bare hands clutching at each other.

"She can't make the decision on her own, Kylo." Savat paused, her hands clenching and her eyes fluttering shut. Then she opened them and looked Kylo straight in the eye. "I don't want to lose her, Kylo. She and I already lost Naseer, and now… now this. I can't, Kylo. _I couldn't possibly bear it_. Please, we must accept the Jedi's offer of assistance."

Kylo was quiet for a moment, taking in the words that had been circling around in his own mind. He agreed with Savat. He didn't necessarily want to accept Luke's help, but he… he and Rey and the Itamarans had been nothing but courteous and accepting, sincere in their desire to help.

He was no longer Snoke's.

He wasn't Luke's, however. He never would be again.

But that did not mean that he could not accept his help.

"We will," Kylo agreed, his voice stronger, more confident, but still quiet. "I will make the arrangements."

Savat simply nodded at him gratefully, and then continued to braid Anath's hair.

She had not moved an inch in hours.

* * *

Rey watched with concern as Kylo and Savat herded Anath into the training room. The younger woman looked little better than she had the first time Rey had met her, though her thick, dark hair was, at least, tamed into two thick braids and the dark fabric she wore appeared cleaner—no longer covered in blood and other bodily fluids of which Rey preferred not to think about.

Both women were dressed in Itamaran fashion, though, unlike Rey, they had both chosen to dress in sober colors and thick, ragged fabric. Savat looked oddly out of place in a dark grey Itamaran tunic and trousers made of Bantha-leather with boots that Rey assumed were her own, but she seemed to be better rested than she had been on the day she and Rey met.

According to the guards, Savat had been sharing Anath's chambers since they had arrived in the palace, despite the suite that had been prepared for her as well, and though Rey could not decide what to make of the friendship between the two women, it seemed the close proximity had had a positive effect on both of them.

Truth be told though….

She still knew very little about the two knights that had accompanied Kylo, and when he had accepted Luke's offer to aid Anath in dealing with the aftereffects of her shattered Force Bond with Naseer, she had found herself too intrigued to turn down to opportunity to be there.

It was not simply about the two women, but also a burning curiosity to see Luke expand more of his powers in the Force, using skills that were years beyond her own at the moment.

"These knights, milady," her bodyguard whispered discreetly, leaning forward just a little as she was pulled from her thoughts. "Are you certain they are to be trusted? There are reports—" Rey waved her hand impatiently, interrupting the older woman from whatever she had been about to say.

"They are our guests," she replied, keeping her voice deliberately steady. "Lady Savat and Lady Anath are here to _grieve_ , after they have suffered an immense loss. I won't have anyone speak ill of them."

"Yes, your majesty," both women at her sides echoed dutifully, and though it turned Rey's stomach a little to use such harsh tones towards them—what had her life _become?_ —she did not regret that she did it.

She may not have been a first-hand witness to Anath or even Savat's grief over Naseer's death, but she had seen and _felt_ Kylo's devastation, and had easily sensed the echoes of Anath's despair in the Force. She had never heard of them before, though now looking back she could recognize the three in the memories she had gained from Kylo on _Starkiller_. He had held himself apart from them, but they had been his most faithful knights; they had looked out for him when others had or would not… and she found herself grateful to them.

She'd meant it when she had offered the women _anything_ to ease their burdens in life.

That included using her status to keep people from viciously gossiping about them.

Normally, she took care not to show such impatience towards her guards— _Force,_ but it was so odd; she still hadn't come to terms with what her life had become—but after her grandfather had come forward about his delicate condition to the family, her uncle had insisted her guards follow her _everywhere._ Even in the _castle_ , where there were enough guards that one could trip over if they looked away for even a moment. It was getting on her last nerve and, while she understood that Savat and Anath made the guards nervous—she supposed it was only logical for Itamaran guards to fear two powerful, confident, Force-sensitive women—she knew they would not do her or her family any harm.

She _knew_.

The Force had told her so, again and again, as if trying to make a point.

"Hello, little one," Luke greeted Anath, a kind smile upon his lips as he stepped forward. She cringed at the look of panic that appeared on both Kylo and Savat's faces as the term of endearment slipped past Luke's lips, but there was little reply from Anath, who simply stood between the two, eyes downcast and arms hanging limply by her sides.

There was no trace of the fiery woman who had demanded vengeance for her brother, and it made Rey feel uncomfortably nauseated.

Luke had mentioned yesterday that broken Force Bonds were notoriously difficult to survive, especially Bonds as deep as the one Anath and Naseer had shared, according to Savat, but she had not quite realized that it would cause Anath to become catatonic once the sheer rush of adrenaline and shock had passed.

She had met briefly with Kylo earlier that day as she was passing from one lesson to the next, and the words he had uttered had stuck with her all throughout the day.

"It's like…" Kylo had hesitated, frowning as he'd tried to find the words to describe what was happening to his friend. "Her Bond with Naseer was unlike any other I've ever seen. They'd hardly been separated since birth, and by the time they were children and Snoke found them, they'd already bonded in the Force. She… she is his and he was hers. I think twins like them are likely the closest thing to true soulmates that we may ever see." His features had scrunched up slightly at that, and Rey was reminded that her master and his mother were twins. That they shared a Force Bond. And though it wasn't as powerful as Naseer and Anath's had been… they would likely still suffer the same if… _when_ one passed. "And," Kylo had continued, "even though he is gone, he is still hers and she is still his, and she is losing herself in the Force to try and find him, even though she can't."

Rey refocused on the present, watching the four individuals in front of her with a curious, but concerned, gaze.

"How long has it been since…?" Luke asked quietly, looking up at Savat and Kylo.

But before either could speak, Anath's lips parted and she whispered hoarsely, "Three days, seven hours and eighteen minutes."

Rey gaped a little, both at the roughness of Anath's voice as well as the preciseness of the answer, but a glimpse at the glassiness of Anath's eyes, the whites of her eyes so red it looked as though she had been crying for days—which was likely a lot closer to the truth than Rey liked to think about—stilled her tongue before she could say anything.

Luke reached out, a pained, sympathetic look on his face, slowly calculating his movements so that Anath had the time to stop him if she didn't want to be touched. "That is a long time to live with such emptiness," he whispered tenderly, rubbing his hand over Anath's forearm as Kylo tugged Savat away, reluctance in every line of her body, and they took a few steps back, towards Rey. "Would you allow me to help you?"

It seemed almost as though the entire room held their breaths for a long, drawn-out moment before Anath nodded shakily and pitched forward into Luke's arms, a distressed cry falling from her lips.

"Let it out," she heard Luke whisper even as Anath began sobbing in earnest—dry, heaving sobs as though she had no more tears left to spill—and her sense of the Force was once again clouded with the immensity of Anath's grief, echoed by both Kylo and Savat, who seemed to struggle to keep their own emotions in check.

It made Rey's heart clench in her chest and anger burn in her veins, and she was nearly overcome by the violent urge to find Snoke and beat him over the head with her quarterstaff until he regretted he had even been born. She didn't even notice she had moved until Savat's slim fingers latched around her wrist, keeping her grounded.

She looked up at the older woman and saw her own helpless rage reflected in Savat's eyes, and for the first time she sensed that she and the knight might truly be on the same page regarding their loved ones and their protection.

"He is showing her how to release her emotions into the Force," Kylo spoke quietly, steadily, as though there were no tears running down his own cheeks—and wasn't _that_ a sight to see... "If she releases all of it into the Force, it will no longer be able to completely tear her apart. It is a _Jedi_ technique." He did not sound resentful at the observation, merely resigned, and Rey realized for the first time how much he truly _cared_ about his knights; about Anath and Savat, and the glaring emptiness in the room that was _Naseer_.

"It is the only thing that will help her find balance," Savat remarked, emotion choking her words. Savat's grip around her wrist tightened minutely, to the point of uncomfortableness, but Rey didn't care. She understood. She would help in any way that she could.

Kylo nodded solemnly before he turned his gaze back to Luke and Anath, who were now seated in a meditative pose Luke had taught Rey fairly early on, though his fingers—durasteel and flesh—were still curled around Anath's slim wrists.

Their presence was still heavy and noticeable in the Force, grief still thick and unyielding as it flooded her senses, but she could sense that Luke had managed to _connect_ with Anath, in a way that kept her entire being from spilling out of the open wound left by the Bond broken by Naseer's death. Both Savat and Kylo were tightly entwined with Anath in the Force as well, and quite suddenly, Rey felt as though she were intruding upon a private moment.

Luke was her master, certainly, and they had grown close, but the connection he now established with Anath, Savat, and Kylo seemed much _deeper_ than theirs.

But… that was okay.

It was truly alright. Perhaps one day she would have a connection with these people, much like they currently had together. Perhaps her Bond with Kylo would become like this… perhaps she could find a new _family_.

She was both inexplicably jealous in that moment… and joyful. Joyful that the connection was strong enough to start pulling Anath from the void that Naseer had left with her soul, within the Force.

It was working, and Rey, for the moment, only cared about that.

It was a beautiful sight indeed.

Rey twisted her hand around just enough that she was able to entwine her fingers with Savat's, squeezing gently. The woman did not look at her, but Rey's fingers were squeezed in return.

As she watched Luke and Anath, the color returning to the knight's features, bit by bit, she felt a hand brush her shoulder, and then settle on the nape of her neck, tugging her gently in towards Savat. She looked over, startled, but Kylo and Savat were not looking her way.

But it was definitely her _husband's_ hand on her, searing her skin, pulling her in, making her a _part_ of this. Of… them. Of their _family_.

It was a start.

* * *

That evening they had a court function to attend.

It was nothing more than a dinner where a handful of allied system ambassadors would be wined and dined, but Kylo had been unable to escape. After making sure that Anath was secure in her rooms—Savat had entwined herself around her, and the emptiness on the other side of Savat was more apparent than ever to Kylo as he reached down to touch his fingers to their foreheads—and resting, he had left the room and come face to face with Duke Miron.

"There is a dinner at seven," he had said. "Your wife already knows to expect you at her door by six forty-five. The dress is formal." And then he'd bowed, turned on his heel, and left, cloak swirling around his form.

So Kylo had dressed, and had carefully not thought about what his wife—his _wife_ —might be wearing.

He had not been ready, but there had been no choice. He was the Prince Consort, and he had been granted enough leeway since he had arrived.

It was time for him to play his role.

Kylo glimpsed to his left, and took in— _again_ , oh Force she's beautiful—the sight of his wife, of Rey, in a charcoal gown, her hair parted into two braids much the same as Anath's had been earlier that day. She was gorgeous, she was _stunning_ , and Kylo had been forced to tamp down on his connection to her so that she was not privy to the thoughts and feelings his mind and body were churning out.

They had not touched skin to skin since yesterday, and her hand had rested on his dark grey sleeve when he'd escorted her to dinner, neither saying a word, even in greeting.

It was… not cold, no… between them. It was comfortable, perhaps, in the way that preceded getting to know a friend better, after first making their acquaintance. They had done so much _more_ than that—and his mind flashed to the mouth-watering image of her beneath him; the image he had stored away just for _him_ —but so much had changed since then, and they were again left to find out where the other stood.

Kylo had barely come to know this new Rey; the _crown_ princess, the heir to the Itamaran system. What he knew of her had been _before_ this upheaval in her life, and everything _she_ knew about him had changed irrevocably since he had shown up a couple of nights ago.

He was… something new. Not the young Padawan he had been. Not the Master of the Knights of Ren. Not… not a true husband. Not really. Not _yet_.

But _stars_ did he ever want to be.

He needed to find out who he was. He needed to find out who _she_ was. And he was sure that she felt the same. That she felt the upheaval of her life, and was alone in trying to figure out her path forward. In trying to figure out who _she_ was, and who _he_ was, and what he meant to her.

He'd sensed all that and more through their Bond the day before, when she had touched his hands, held them in her own, treated him as if he _deserved_ her touch, when he felt that he should receive anything but.

He felt how _alone_ she felt, at times, with only a therapy droid to talk to about some of the deepest and darkest things she would speak of to no one else.

She _needed_ someone else.

He could feel it.

Lifting his hand, he slowly moved it towards where Rey's fingers were tapping softly on the table during a break in speaking.

He saw the exact moment that she saw his hand moving towards her, and he met her eyes. Her mouth was parted slightly, her lips oh so _kissable_ , but he held back the urge. Instead, he opened the Bond slightly, letting her feel his desire to help her—but only if she wished it. He did not want to fight her battles for her; he simply wished to _help_ her as _she_ fought her battles.

Her eyes softened, and her gaze dropped to where his hand was an inch away from hers.

She hesitated…

…and then she turned her hand over, palm up, offering it up to him. She opened her side of the Bond just enough to brush against his mind. He couldn't sense much beyond vague emotions… but from what he sensed…

He squeezed her hand gently, and then released it, simply relaxing into the feeling of her skin against his, of her mind against his, even minutely…

He brushed his thumb across her skin, reveling in the softness.

She did not pull away when another ambassador approached, speaking to the woman with confidence and poise.

And yet he could sense her nervousness, her fear, her lack of confidence.

He squeezed her hand once more, offering whatever support he could.

It was hers for the taking, if she so wished.

He would not press.

For now.


	19. Chapter 19

The dinner had continued late into the night, longer than Rey could handle, Kylo could tell. She was a muted, exhausted haze in the back of his mind, thoughts indiscernible from one another, but her mask never failed—at least, to the outside world.

And wasn't that a fascinating thought? Kylo Ren was no longer part of the outside world to Rey. He could tell her expressions apart, her thoughts assisting him when she was open to him, and more often than not these days she _was_ open to him.

It was everyone else who was subjected to Rey's mask. To the smile that was just a little too pleasant, to the warm and welcoming voice that hid the little tremble at the corner of her lips, to the deliberately open palms that belied the desire to clench them closed; to clench her eyes shut just the same and _breathe_.

She needed to rest, and that thought, almost more than any other thought he'd had in the last few hours, allowed him to pull himself almost entirely out of his state of grieving—at least for the moment.

Rey needed him.

Even if she would never admit to it.

She had willingly been his shoulder to lean on since he had returned to Itamar—he now wished he could return the favor. If she would let him.

It was past midnight when Rey stood, Kylo standing a beat later and pressing his hand instinctively to the small of her back. He could feel a fine tremble coursing through her entire body, tiredness reflected in the feel of her mind, and he leaned his shoulder into her just enough that she could feel his support.

The crowd immediately quieted, staring at the crown princess in expectation and with respect—how _odd_ it was not to have a mass of people staring at _him_ … though… he had never gained respect out of love. It had always been respect born from fear. Fear of him and what he could _do_. Fear of the power behind him: the Knights of Ren and the Supreme Leader.

Fear of the death that followed in his wake.

Fear of—

"Noble ladies and sirs, ambassadors and guests alike, it is with great pleasure that I conclude the end of our dinner, hopefully the first of many—though hopefully we will be long done with the politics and can enjoy each other's company simply for the fun of it!" Rey's voice was strong and clear, though it needed not be loud to carry through the hall.

A soft round of chuckles was pulled from the throats of those gathered, and Rey's shoulders relaxed minutely. Kylo simply watched, and waited.

"It is with great reluctance that I and my husband must depart the gathering. There are important things we must attend to and—" Rey was startled when the hall erupted into further laughter, and Kylo let a smirk play at his lips when he saw a blush spread from the tip of her nose, straight through her cheeks, and into the collar of her charcoal gown.

He was instantly reminded of the way her blush spread across her chest, and he could feel it as heat flashed through his own body.

Rey cast a startled look at him, lips parted _just so_ , before she put on a—still fake, but naturally warm, at least—smile for her guests, and chuckled. "Yes, yes, I am a lucky woman indeed, and I'm sure nothing I can say will convince you that I meant that I have _meetings_ to attend to in the early morning." A round of shaking heads had her sighing dramatically, and Kylo could see the hand of Rey's aunt Tivona in her mannerisms, and even in her speech.

"So on _that_ embarrassing note," Rey continued, her blush as deep as ever, and her smile a lot more natural, "I will bid everyone goodnight—or, if you wish to stay and converse, and enjoy the music and food, I suppose it would be that I bid you a good _day_. On behalf of the royal family, I thank you all for attending, and for allowing this all to go so smoothly."

And with that, she gave the hall a nod, soft smile still playing at her lips, and turned to walk towards the entrance reserved for them and the other members of the family.

Kylo kept pace with her, but as soon as the door to the hall shut on them both—no guards needed, as Kylo was with her, and the halls were regularly swept—Rey stuttered to a stop and closed her eyes tight.

Kylo took one look at her, feeling at the tiredness that enveloped Rey's mind, allowing very little else to slip through, and put his right arm around her waist, gripping her left hand with his own left, and then walked her slowly towards their quarters.

Neither of them said a word, for there was no need of it. He understood what she needed as if it were his need as well—and it _was_ his need, as sure as the suns rose on countless planets.

He nodded to the two guards who appeared as soon as they were within sight of the door to their suite, the noblewomen as formidable as his own knights, he'd come to learn, and escorted Rey inside.

She was aware of everything going on around her, and offered Kylo a soft, sad smile that underscored how tired she was. He didn't speak, but instead pulled her towards their bedroom, and to the door of the bathroom, where he left her to her ablutions.

He pulled off his coat and tugged off his boots, hanging them in the wardrobe that had suddenly appeared one day with all of his clothing hung up inside. Yet he paused on the buttons of his pants, and then chose instead to leave them on. He did, however, undo the top few buttons of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves.

The sound of the door opening alerted him to the fact that Rey was done, and he slowly met her as she made her hesitant way out of the bathroom.

Her eyes flicked up at his, and he met her gaze with a solid one of his own. "Let me help," he said, and even he was surprised at the gravelly tone of his voice. Rey tilted her head at him, expression open but showing… trepidation, of a sorts.

Kylo took a deep breath, and then opened himself to her. He let her feel his thoughts, and let her flit about as she will within his mind, but she didn't take advantage. At least, not of everything he had laid bare to her. He could feel her thoughts skim along his hatred for Snoke, his grief over Naseer and his protectiveness for Savat and Anath, and his regret over his father… but she didn't give any of that more than a passing thought, instead focusing on the immediate present.

She took a step forward and touched the fingers of one hand to the edge of his jaw, sparking an increase in the clarity of their connection, much like Luke had taught them the day before. He reached up and caught the fingers of her hand in his much larger one, and then pulled them slowly—so that she could pull away if she wished—towards his lips.

But she did not pull away.

He pressed a light kiss to her fingers—but it do not _feel_ light within his heart, his _soul_ —and then stepped backwards, pulling her towards her wardrobe. She followed him, her eyes slightly more round than before, her breath just that much quicker…

It was an opportunity, but one he would not take. And he knew she could tell. She was relaxed, and following him, pressing her mind against his one last time to see his intentions, and then pulling away, leaving his mind feeling… barren. Empty without her.

It was perhaps a scarier thought than he wished it to be.

The charcoal dress was actually a wrap that went over another dress and shift, and Kylo quickly untied the top layer, no words needing to be spoken for Rey to shrug her shoulders back and let the dress be pulled from off of her. Kylo carefully hung it on one of the hooks in the wardrobe, and then turned back to her, his _wife_ , only to see that she had undone the light grey underdress, and it was pooled around her feet, leaving her in nothing but a white slip.

Rey stepped out of the fabric at her feet, and Kylo quickly scooped it up, putting it away near automatically as he stared at the sight of Rey in the thin slip of fabric she was left in.

She was _beautiful_. Gorgeous and sublime. Everything and _nothing_ that he had dreamed of.

He took a step towards her, but instead of pushing her onto the bed and kissing her senseless like his hindbrain demanded of him… he carried himself past her, turning the bedsheets down so that he could reach back and grab Rey's hand, pulling her gently into bed with him.

Arranging them so that her cheek was pressed to his chest, one arm thrown across his body and a leg curled over one of his thighs, he gently wrapped one arm around her, and slowly, carefully, ran his fingers over her hair, her cheek, her lips.

Skin to skin, comfort desperately needed by them both.

By the time he'd made his third pass over the soft skin behind her ear, she was asleep, her mind finally quieting from the whirlwind it had been in.

Moments later, he too was asleep.

* * *

In the morning, he was gone.

She wasn't surprised. Wasn't insulted.

Instead she felt… _calm_.

She knew it wasn't a dream, last night, and found that she didn't care. Found that she sort of… wanted it. That the touch had calmed her, in ways that she had never thought of. Found that listening to the sound of his heartbeat, and feeling his fingers on her face, on her hair, on her _skin_ had been soothing, grounding, and… and… loving.

Rey had been thankful for all of that, had welcomed it all… but it didn't stop her from feeling relief that he wasn't there in the morning.

There was only so much honesty Rey could handle at the moment.

And Kylo, despite everything she had thought of him before… was honest, and open, in a way that threw her entirely off-kilter.

So she was thankful for the respite, but she knew that she would have to face him—face her _feelings_ —soon.

Until then, she had meetings to attend to with her aunt and her grandfather.

No rest for the weary, indeed.

* * *

Rey slipped into the room, and the fact that he hadn't noticed her approach was either a mark in her favor, or a mark against his.

It also nearly got his hand cut off.

"Careful!" Luke laughed. "You don't want to end up like me!"

Kylo glowered, but he could tell that it was only habitual, a mask—he wasn't really annoyed at his uncle, not really. Something had… shifted between them. Something essential that existed between the two of them had changed, or had sloughed off the old and manifested anew.

There was still history between them. Still a lot of regret, and pain, and suffering. A lot of things that needed to be said, or screamed, and things that needed to be forgiven—if they ever could be.

But there was also a new… peace between them. Something that was tentative and new and could be broken so easily, but it bridged the gap that spanned their souls, their beings, and would hold them steady until they could build firmer foundations of trust and… family. Or, at least, until they could map out the areas that must be avoided entirely.

Not everything could be forgiven. Not fully.

Kylo simply barred his teeth at the man's rather unfortunate attempt at self-deprecating humor, and then lunged forward, only to use the momentum to spin around his uncle's parry and settle his lightsaber at the back of the man's neck.

Or he tried to, at least.

His uncle had tilted forward, following the aborted parry, and then splayed his free hand out against the ground. The move allowed him to flip himself upside down and over in a movement he'd only seen gymnasts use—and would never in a million years expect from the old Jedi.

"What the _kriff_ —" And then Luke had swung himself and his 'saber right back around, Kylo only barely managing to block the older man's arcing blow.

"Something that Makis taught me, actually." And damn the man, he didn't sound even remotely tired.

… Not that Kylo was tired, no.

Makis… that was one of Rey's guards, and now Kylo thought of him with even more respect. Someone that muscular, being able to move so gracefully… it appeared that the household guard, including Rey's seven, were more formidable than he had thought.

"Ah, so you can teach an old Jedi new tricks," Kylo teased.

A moment later, both Luke and Rey were giving him odd looks, and Kylo was honestly in agreement with them. Attempting to move on from his ridiculously failed attempt at humor—and where in space had that even _come_ from? —Kylo darted forward and unleashed a flurry of strikes against his former Master.

It was… surreal. As he lunged and parried, swung and spun, rolled and struck, he could see, practically as clear as day, a vision of himself and Luke when they were both far younger, overlaid on top of their present-day forms. It was highly disconcerting, but he found that the image wasn't provoking him in the same way that it likely would have had it been two years ago. Kriff, even two _months_ ago.

Kylo blinked, forcibly dispelling the vision— _yes_ , he understood what the Force was willing of him, and he was taking it at his _own_ pace—only to find his legs suddenly knocked out from beneath him.

With the stance that he normally favored—firm and feet spread wide, knees bent—it was nearly impossible to knock him over. But, for the very lucky few who managed it, when he _did_ have a leg knocked unsteady… all it would take was a good eye and a precisely planted kick to knock him right on his ass.

Or on his face, in this case.

The impact was hard, but it didn't stop him from jumping straight up, hair in his face, lightsaber at the ready, even if he couldn't see quite yet.

But what _did_ stop him from letting anger consume him—he was already one step into the darkness that surrounded his clumsy and gangly childhood self—was the sound of laughter.

More specifically, the beautiful sound of _Rey's_ laughter.

It was like the heavens opened up, letting the sun shine through, or rain falling on a parched soul— _his_ soul—and _Force_ he was being romantic and ridiculous but he couldn't stop it because she was _smiling_ and sounded like she hadn't laughed properly in weeks, or smiled, or relaxed, or _anything_ vaguely comforting at _all_.

He was finally able to get a good look at her, swiping his hair back and away from his face with the hand that didn't hold his still-active lightsaber.

 _Stars_ , she was gorgeous, her hair half pulled back, the rest falling loose against her shoulders, her black and grey training garb cut beautifully to match her figure, the soft swell of her hips emphasized with the way the fabric lay… but it was her face—no, her _eyes_ … they were the most beautiful thing about her. The way they crinkled at the corner as she laughed, squinting half-shut, but in a way where he could still see the beautiful hazel.

She was… she was…

"Ready for round four, boy?" Luke sounded forcibly innocent in the way that had always brought a grimace to Kylo's face as a boy.

It seemed _that_ hadn't changed one bit over the decades.

"I'm not your boy," Kylo mumbled automatically, but he couldn't put much force into it—not like in the past—because Rey's laughter may have waned, her smile might have diminished slightly… but it had morphed into something just as perfect.

She was giving him a soft smile that reached her eyes, one that was far more perfect and natural than the ones she offered those _outside_. He couldn't help but to admire the blush staining her cheeks, which increased in intensity the longer he stared, a smile of his own pulling ever so slowly at his lips.

At least until his legs were nearly kicked out from beneath him again—and then… then it was _on_.

He turned towards Luke, energized like he hadn't been before, and threw himself into the fight.

And this time… well, he wasn't going to tell Luke that Rey was aiding him, her laughter now sparkling internally as she made him aware of Luke's movements right before he made them.

The expression on Luke's face made it hard to keep it to himself, however, but he was able to keep quiet—only just.

* * *

She had been pointed in the direction of Savat and Anath's room when she asked where Kylo was, cheeks coloring slightly—even a full month later—at the way the servant said 'your husband'.

After her sparring with Luke, she had watched Kylo spar, and it had been quite the sight to see the man fight—she had been worried that it would bring back bad memories, memories of _Starkiller_ , of the cold, and the anger, and the _fear_ … And although it had made her think of Finn, and what Kylo had done to him, she had been incapable of ascribing blame to Kylo for what had happened—or, at least, not as much as she used to.

But the tension the start of sparring had elicited slowly drained away, and in its place lay admiration for the strength and skill that Kylo displayed. And which Luke displayed in turn.

And then… then his legs had been knocked out from beneath him and, after a moment of stunned silence, Rey burst into laughter. She couldn't help it. Oh, _Maker_ , it had been absolutely hilarious, and she wasn't even quite sure why it was _that_ hilarious… but still she had laughed like she hadn't laughed in… well, honestly? It had probably been sometime in her nebulous years before she was lost on Jakku.

But within moments of him looking at her, her laughter, her smile, had turned into something else. He was off guard, and the happiness and adoration in his eyes… oh _Force_ , _stars_ , and _Maker combined_ , she hadn't been ready for it. And yet she had kept laughing, had kept smiling, incapable of thinking anything beyond being _happy_ in that moment, until Luke had intruded on their undeniably private moment, one which had been heating her blood in ways she hadn't thought possible.

In ways she was _scared_ to think of, despite her promise to be honest with herself.

She had spent the rest of the sparring session with her eyes following every movement of his lithe form, carefully hiding her feelings—at least until she could figure herself out—as she carefully guided Kylo's responses to moves that Luke thought would trick the younger man, but that she had seen aplenty.

It had been… diverting.

She'd still skipped meditation, opting instead to find her uncle and spar her frustration out with him.

Finally arriving at the door in question, Rey lifted her hand to knock, but paused as she heard voices within—or, more specifically, a single voice that she had _not_ expected to hear.

General Hux.

Had Kylo—not to mention Anath and Savat—lied to her, hidden their loyalty from her? Had she been played? Had she been betrayed?

Had—

Kylo's mental presence brushed against hers insistently, and she let her shields down—only a little—after a slight hesitation.

 _We are still with you_ , was all he said, and then the door was opened without a single hand upon it, inviting her within.

Kylo was facing her, sitting in a relaxed slouch, all casual with his legs splayed before him like a conquering emperor—and he practically was, she realized with a start.

He was smiling at the man whose image was cast onto the wall just to the side of the door, but Rey… Rey could feel his frustration and his fear, even if he didn't show it, at the thought that he and his best friend—his _brother_ , practically—would remain at odds in this war. That they would be caught on opposite sides, and that both would feel as if the other had betrayed them.

And it was _imperative_ , Kylo knew, that Hux never suspect a thing until it was too late.

It was with this knowledge that Rey let herself glide into the room, her back to the holo-recorder, drawing on every last lesson that her Aunt Tivona had given her in order to control what others saw of you—a mask, in essence.

She had become—unfortunately—rather good at it in the last few weeks. There were always people who wanted things, and she had to give no quarter unless she wanted to. Unless she _needed_ to.

The general had fallen silent as Rey's presence was made known to him and, out of respect, perhaps, or something else entirely, he kept quiet even as Rey deliberately greeted the others in the room first.

"Lady Savat," Rey said warmly, a smile playing on her lips. "I trust that you are well, and that the palace hospitality is not lacking?"

"It is not lacking at all, your highness," Savat replied as she rose, Anath a beat behind her. Savat bowed, and Rey realized that someone had taught her the proper depth—probably Kylo, actually. Anath curtsied as soon as Savat did, her wide split skirts spreading out with her hands and looking far more graceful than Rey felt she ever could.

The woman was a beauty, her black hair glistening, and it was clear that she was doing leaps and bounds better than she had been just yesterday afternoon.

She looked as though she was _alive_.

"Oh Anath," Rey whispered as she reached forward to take Anath's hands. The other woman gave them to Rey, her dark skin a brilliant contrast against the tanned but still pale skin that was Rey's. Rey pulled her up into a hug, arms wrapped tight around her. She was glad when Anath hugged her back, even if it had taken her a shocked moment—Kylo had let out a little mental sound of surprise as soon as Rey had pulled her in, but otherwise remained quiet, especially when it looked as if Rey wasn't going to be killed for hugging the fierce and private woman.

Rey had to admit that there were days when physical contact made her want to lash out as well… but she had also come to be grateful for touch in times of comfort, and it seemed that Anath had realized it as well.

Or, at least, she did for the moment.

"It's good to see you, Anath," she whispered. She had asked her uncle for the standard phrase Itamarans spoke to one another when they were grieving, and it had soon devolved into a four hour lesson on the rights and rituals of death in Itamar— _and_ its surrounding allies. It was why it was so late in the evening, and why she had missed supper.

But the words… they just sounded too formal. They were the words a ruler or a stranger said to someone, and Rey… despite everything, she didn't feel like a ruler. And she didn't want to be a stranger. Even after just this short amount of time, Rey felt like she had seen such an intimate side to the woman—so much so that she could no longer consider the woman a stranger.

Even if not a friend, or family—not yet, perhaps—they certainly were not strangers.

She felt that Anath saw her the same way, as well.

"My uncle taught me words to say," Rey continued, still holding the other woman against her. "But they just didn't feel right. I'm… they weren't right for _me_. But I needed… _wanted_ to express to you, now that you are more aware… that I am _with you_." She knew that Anath would understand what Rey was saying. That she was affirming, with words suited to their audience, that Rey would help her get revenge for her twin's death.

Rey pulled back, and looked deep into Anath's eyes, pretending for the other woman's sake that she didn't see the tears swimming there. Hands falling away from each other, Rey spread hers wide and then admitted with a lopsided grin, one that quickly faded as she spoke, "Maybe the Itamaran words were prettier, but they seemed too bare for what you're going through, Anath. I am with you. I grieve _with you_."

Anath could only stare, and stare, and it took Savat elbowing her slightly less than gracefully before Anath smiled. It was a pale echo of what Rey was sure the woman had once been capable of, but it was beautiful nonetheless. "Thank you, your highness— _Rey_ ," she murmured. "I also thank you for your offer to mourn publicly with me, even though you did not… did not know _him_ —" She choked on the word, but Rey let her be, knowing she would continue.

And she did, but first she reached forward and tugged at the sleeve of Rey's black and white gown, rubbing the fabric between her fingers as if it held the answer to all of her misery. She looked up, finally, and her eyes held nothing back. She was calmer than yesterday, the bulk and edge of her emotions released into the Force, but she was still fierce; still passionate. "Thank you. Naseer… Naseer and I thank you for your kindness… Rey."

There was very little that Rey could say to that, so she simply caught Anath's fingers with one hand, squeezed them, and then caught her eyes before she turned, her black and white slashed dress swirling around her in another move her aunt had taught her, and then parked her rear right on the arm of Kylo's seat. She leaned her back against his shoulder and, after a moment, Kylo picked up on what she wished of him—it was all for _show_ , she told herself—and placed his hand possessively on her hip.

She shivered, the heat of his skin practically setting her blood to boil beneath the thin fabric of her dress, but kept her expression calm as she finally brought her gaze to the stranger in the room.

Well, sort of in the room.

"General Hux," Rey replied, only slightly warmly. It was the same way she had greeted him last, and she still remembered the way he had set her blood boiling—in an _entirely_ different way than Kylo did—in that last encounter.

He had practically _threatened_ her.

But Rey understood that there was a part to be played in this great _game_ —she scoffed—that they were playing.

And so she plastered on her mask, and joined the game yet again.

"It is a pleasure to see you are well, your highness," Hux replied, ever courteous.

Rey simply nodded, replying, "And you," before adding, "My apologies for the intrusion on your meeting. Pray continue."

 _Maker_ , but her aunt would laugh herself silly at hearing Rey echo the woman's usual sarcasm.

Kylo's hand squeezed her hip, and Rey had to stop herself from practically melting back into him—at least, more so than she already was. He sent her a brush of mental laughter, and Rey was able to catch the smirk pulling at his lip when she angled herself so that she could see his expressions with a simple turn of her neck.

"I was just about to inquire as to how the Lady Anath is doing," Hux replied, and there was something… _warm_ about the way his voice curled around Anath's name.

Oh.

Well then.

Anath had taken her seat already, and she tilted her head in response to the general. "Armitage—" And Rey did not miss the exclusion of the man's title, or the familiarity with which she said his name… his _first_ name. "—I thank you for your concern. Savat and I," Oh _stars_ , the man looked even more determined, "had intended to take this time alone to grieve, away from the politics that the fleet seems to breed."

Hux smiled softly at that, and Rey was perturbed at the way it looked on him. He looked… happy, though muted enough for the solemnity of the occasion.

He looked disturbingly _human._

And the happiness… was not something she associated with the man in the least.

Kylo leaned forward, his other hand coming up to frame Rey's waist from the other side, and Rey had to keep her eyes firmly on the projection lest she did… _something_. She wasn't quite sure what, but she refused to find out.

All for show, all for show, _all of it_ , she told herself.

"Anath is taking this time to heal, Taj, and you know that," Kylo began.

"I did not," Hux retorted, his eyes flicking towards Kylo, and then his eyebrows creased as he took in the sight of Rey practically falling off the armrest and into her husband's lap.

He wisely chose to ignore it, though Rey was struggling to do the same.

He turned his attention back to Anath, his gaze softening. "My lady, my apologies. I did not intend to intrude on your period of mourning." He actually sounded sincere, and Rey was struck with the thought that perhaps there _was_ something kind beneath the horrors of his actions and the gruff and commanding exterior of a general.

Perhaps he had his own versions of masks as well.

"I truly did not know that you were here when I contacted Kylo. But if there is anything you need—" And here he took in the way that Savat had placed a proprietary hand upon Anath's thigh, beneath the layers of her skirt. His eyes took on an intrigued cast, and Rey nearly choked in surprise. "—or that you may need, Lady Savat, please do not hesitate to contact me. My comm is always open for either of grieves me that he was lost to us in such a tragic way, Anath. He was a formidable warrior, a man I respected, and the Resistance will pay in blood."

Did… did he not _know_ that Snoke had killed Naseer? Had he not been _told_? Kept in the dark deliberately? Obviously Snoke was spinning Naseer's death and using it to fuel propaganda against the Resistance.

It was… something to think on.

There was a charged pause, where everyone made an effort to control their faces appropriately, and Rey was _sure_ that Anath would explode… but she was able to control herself and nod tightly.

After a suitably respectful pause, Kylo asked, rather dryly, "Why _did_ you call, anyway, Hux?"

Hux settled back in his chair, losing the look of playful teasing he'd had not a minute before, and replacing it with a pensive air. "We haven't heard from you in a few days, so I thought that I would check to see how—"

"You mean Snoke asked you to check on me," Kylo stated without inflection.

"The _Supreme Leader_ —" He put an emphasis on the title, but the way that he rolled his eyes at Kylo showed Rey that it was something normal for Kylo to call Snoke… that. "—has indeed asked me to call on you, He said that he had more important things to do than check on a wayward apprentice."

And there… there Hux's eyes narrowed, and Rey nearly looked away at the sharp intellect focused in on Kylo—on all four of them, actually. His gaze was entirely too assessing, sharp, intelligent, and Rey reminded herself that he was a general at _thirty-five_ … not an accomplishment to be passed over. Something that only fool's forgot—to their detriment… and _death_ , Rey imagined.

At that, she shivered slightly, and Kylo's hand at her waist tightened momentarily, his thumb stroking the edge of her back and offering her reassurance with a simple touch. It was enough for Rey to fix any holes her mask might have gained.

Kylo scoffed, recalling Rey to the conversation at hand. "I can assure you Hux, and _you_ can assure Snoke, if you so wish, that this apprentice has not flown the nest. I have merely chosen to return here for duties that will aid our plight in the system, and to offer some time to Anath—as well as Savat—to heal. The gardens here are unlike any I have yet seen, and the masseurs…"

He trailed off and Rey tilted her head to the side to see him wink at Savat.

Force, he was charismatic.

"Very well," Hux said, and Rey could practically see the majority of the tension run out of him. Had he… had he truly been worried that Kylo was turning traitor? Had he worried that he might have been called to rein in his friend, or to help arrange his death?

Rey's mind flashed to the general acting as Kylo's witness, and to the way the men had interacted together at the banquet.

Perhaps… perhaps there was more to this man than met the eye. More than his rank and the tales of his deeds.

Still didn't mean he wasn't to blame for Hosnia—and there… _there_ Rey's mask nearly fractured entirely.

The man was giving her an odd look when she pulled herself from her musings, and she realized that she had missed part of the discussion.

"The king is well, Taj, thank you," Kylo was replying.

Oh. Well, that explained the look.

"Thank you, general. My grandfather is well, as my husband says," Rey interjected. She didn't offer an explanation for her woolgathering because, frankly, she didn't need to.

Especially not to men like him.

"Will we be seeing a delegate from the Order at the upcoming charity ball, general?" Rey asked instead. "It would be an honor to have someone such as… yourself attend. I'm sure that we could garner a wider range of donations if people were to follow your lead," she said primly. She wasn't above appealing to vanity and ego to get what would help those in need.

Even if she didn't like the man.

… _Especially_ if she didn't like the man.

"I…" Hux looked just a little on this side of caught off guard. "I was unaware that there was a charity ball being held, highness." Ah there, he'd finally gathered himself. "Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I will have our liaison gather the pertinent information and will ensure that we have someone at the ball."

Good enough.

Rey inclined her head at him, and then tilted it just slightly. "Is that all, general?" she asked.

"Well… yes, but I do have some personal business with Kylo that—"

"He's busy at the moment," Rey interrupted, taking an inordinate amount of pleasure from the sour look that crossed Hux's features. "My apologies, general, but I have important business to discuss with him as well. Perhaps you may call back tomorrow?"

The silence stretched on just a little longer than was polite, but Rey didn't mind. The rudeness wasn't on _her_ in this case.

Finally, he replied with a resigned, "I will do that." Another pause, though this one was briefer. "Highness. Kylo." He nodded at the man, respect and even a little fondness on his features. And then he turned on the two lady knights, and a small smile graced his lips and eyes. "Anath, Savat. You are in my thoughts."

They nodded back, but only just, a slightly incredulous look on Anath's features, and a bemused one on Savat's.

And with a smirk, the general cut the feed.

Kylo started laughing, both hands shaking where they still rested on Rey's hips, as Rey simply stared incredulously at the women beside them.

Anath still looked a little pale and tired, worn out emotionally and physically, but a little smile—albeit an embarrassed one—was playing at her lips in response to Kylo's laughter, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Savat was rubbing Anath's leg gently, but was leaning back in her chair, much as Kylo was, a satisfied smirk upon her features.

"Um," Rey began, though she wasn't quite sure what to say. "He… what…"

Savat took pity on her, as Kylo's laughter started to subside. "Well, that was unexpected," she announced. She looked at Rey and explained, "Dear Armitage has always been fond of my Anath, though he was never successful at wooing her. Even _before_ I entered the picture." She winked, and squeezed Anath's thigh gently. Anath sent a soft, fragile smile at the other woman. "He still fancies her but has been nothing but kind and respectful, so I think he actually, _truly_ does care about her, especially given some of his recent conversations with my lady here in the last few months."

"And now he's got his eye on you both, Savat. Anath, oh _stars_ , you thought you were safe and now he just likes you _both_ ," Kylo teased, shifting forward. Rey became unbalanced and fell into his lap rather unceremoniously, her eyes wide. He caught her and held her in place with both hands still held firmly around her waist, and everyone just… paused for a moment, looking at Rey and likely wondering what exactly she was going to do.

Rey wondered that, as well.

With the end of having to put on a front for the general, to show that nothing was suspicious here in the least, Rey realized that she needed to get off of Kylo's lap. It was all well and good when there was an audience, and he didn't seem to mind touching her… but his two knights were there with him, and Rey was sure that he wouldn't want her perched on him in their presence.

She straightened, poised to get up, and then…

 _Screw it_ , Rey thought. _Just a little longer. I can have this for just a little longer_. _If he doesn't like it, he can tell me…_

But Rey had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn't tell her anything of the sort.

That decided, she settled slightly more comfortably as she perched on the edge of Kylo's knees. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but it was the most she was willing to allow herself in front of others. Even if Kylo was okay with public displays, they were something that still threw her off.

But… she had already had him, and he had already had her, and he was her husband for good, by law… and he had renounced Snoke, and was working on fighting back—wasn't he?

She… honestly wasn't one hundred percent sure on that last one.

"Are…" she began, and then swallowed before starting again. "Are you going to… fight against… against him? Them?" She gestured vaguely towards where the projection had just been.

The answer was immediate, from all three.

"Yes," they all said, but Savat clenched her fists, her hair fluttering upwards just slightly with the force of her anger being pushed into the Force, and Anath's eyes practically sparked with the hatred they exuded, and Kylo… Kylo's hands tightened on her hips to the point she squirmed in his grip, and he lessened the pressure of his fingers. The Force roiled around them, their conviction clear, and Kylo wrapped his mind around hers, opening up to her to the point that she opened up fully in return.

He moved one of his hands and trailed his fingers over the back of her hand, increasing the strength of their Force Bond to the point that she wasn't even sure where his mind ended, and hers began.

He, _they_ , were telling the truth.

She trusted Kylo.

She trusted the Force, yes… but she was starting to learn that she could trust him without their connection as well.

"Good," was all she needed to say.

And then she leaned back against Kylo's broad chest, letting him wrap his arms around her in a way that was reminiscent of how he'd held her the night before.

She could tell that Kylo was letting himself enjoy the feel of her in his arms—and, honestly, she was as well; what harm was there in this? —but he kept his mind on task, much like he always did.

… Though she was sure if she led him on a chase across a base, he would be _very_ distracted. Again.

Rey let a little grin play at her lips, and Anath caught her eye as Kylo and Savat started up a quiet conversation.

Anath winked at her.

Rey smiled back, softer. She was glad that the woman was doing better. There would be a lot of healing to come… but it was a start. At least this way she wasn't going to be pulled into death after her brother, willingly or no.

At least this way, she still had a future with a woman who loved her.

She…

Rey's eyes widened, and she sat up straight. "Oh!" Rey exclaimed, and the other two quieted almost immediately.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this?" Savat asked dryly, rhetorically.

Rey made a flapping motion in her direction. "No, no, this won't be bad at all! In fact, it could be good." She turned a little more towards Anath, squirming on Kylo's lap until he actually helped her turn a little more. She refused to think— _again_ —on how his large hands felt on her, or the feel of his muscular thighs beneath her…

She shook her head and blushed a little, and then spoke to distract herself. "Anath, what do you think about using Hux's affection for you in our _favor_?"

And _that_ certainly got everyone's attention.

* * *

He was holding her the same way as before, the way she… _liked_ , her cheek to his heart, and she was listening to it beat through the fabric of his shirt in the middle of the night when sleep was out of her grasp. But the thick silence, only punctuated by Kylo's deep, slumbering breaths, was broken suddenly when her uncle came barreling into their room, four other guards on his tail.

They were so quiet, even in their hurry, that she wouldn't have noticed their entrance if she hadn't been awake and staring at the sliver of pale moonlight peeking through the cracks of her bedroom door.

One moment they weren't there… the next they _were_ , as if they had simply popped into existence between one slow blink and the next.

"Rey," he began, coming to a halt at the end of her bed. The other guards fanned out around the room, guarding all exits—or perhaps they were guarding _entrances_.

She had never seen them like this.

"Uncle," she greeted the man politely, but quickly. She sat up straight in bed, her three buns feeling a little lopsided, and called her 'saber to her hand from the bedside table.

A moment later, Kylo's 'saber passed in front of her gaze with a _whoosh_ , and Kylo was untangling himself from her legs so that he could exit the bed from the other side.

"What is it?" Kylo asked clearly, his voice commanding with a thread of danger.

"Intruders," Miron replied succinctly. "There are intruders in the castle."

Kylo's eyes met Rey's, and she shivered at what she saw within.

* * *

 **Note:** **This chapter really fought me. Goodness. It's also why it's about 2k words longer than my original draft. Hoo boy. I 'finished' it like 2 days ago, but here we are! Thank you Annaelle for taking the extra time with this, even in the middle of moving, and to Perry_Downing who gave it a quick glance and had some good suggestions as well! Thank you both. xoxo**

 **I MAY take next week off with Mitz and focus on War and Haze, which are both nearly complete. I also won't have as much writing time due to doctor's appointments (waiting takes foreeeeeever here, omg) so the quicker stories are easier. Plus I haven't updated them in a while. But, y'know, sometimes that plan can change. xD**

 **Be safe, everyone! Thank you so much for continuing to read and comment! It makes my day seeing your support. 3**


	20. A loving message from Juulna

Hello to all of my Star Wars readers, Juulna here, with lots of love and hugs, first and foremost.

I know this isn't the update you wanted it to be, and I'm sorry for that. I know you've all waited a long, _long_ time for an update—many of you for _over a year_ —and so I wanted to come here and use what is normally reserved for chapter updates, what is normally frowned upon for author updates (but really, there is no better way to reach all of you, my apologies, dear friends), to tell you why there hasn't been one in so _very_ long… and why there won't be one in the foreseeable future.

On Tumblr I recently received an ask wondering if I was going to be continuing one of my stories. I answered it at the time, about a month ago, but since then the answer has been on the edge of my thoughts. It made me realize that I really do need to let you, faithful readers old and new alike (who aren't tapped into my Tumblr), know that I just… well, I can't write Star Wars at the moment. It doesn't really even matter what ship.

And you really should know _why_.

I've attempted to start writing again, and even had that brief period late last summer where I was lucky enough to begin _I'd start a war for you_ , in fact, and was able to write some other updates for other stories as well. But it soon became clear to me that I was riding the high of literally just leaving my husband. It didn't last for long, as soon reality came sweeping back in, and I was no longer able to hide from the immense trauma that had been caused to my psyche and heart.

Many of you know, but many don't, that there are a lot of really awful memories tied up with Star Wars and my abusive ex-husband (likely hacked and removed my work from AO3, slutshamed me for shipping and writing fic, the list goes on…), as well as with me and the Star Wars fandom and being cyberbullied, both of which contributed to the massive decline in my health, which continues to be an ongoing struggle filled with regular physiotherapy and doctor's visits, constant pain, and sleep that is never restful.

All of that, all of this, got tied up into a rather unpleasant knot inside of me, and it's one I'm still struggling desperately to undo, but I think there's irreparable damage that's been done, outside and inside, and I'll never be able to fully recover. Every time I _think_ of Star Wars it causes problems and, well, that in itself is a problem, but I can enjoy it as a fan on Tumblr in a way that I just can't even possibly hope to touch on as a writer currently. But I can change trajectory, and thus me starting to write in the Marvel fandom, as there is nothing but happiness and passion there for me, and it's filled with _beautiful_ and _loving_ people and memories (well, so far! *knocks on wood*) and even if I'm struggling creatively and physically, it's a safe haven for me in a way that… well, in a way that Star Wars can't be right now.

I may be able to write Star Wars again (I was able to write a little oneshot post-TLJ but even that left a terrible feeling inside me and reaffirmed to me I wasn't ready for more) but it isn't right now. However, I _can_ say that although some of the comments I've been getting, wondering when I'm going to update, are rude, the others I'm getting on these old, unfinished fics… are actually sorting of stoking the fire again. So it's been a good thing for me, healing in a way (comments always make me happy, even if I'm not going to finish the fic!), and I hope that perhaps someday sooner than I thought, I might be able to feel comfortable enough to write Star Wars again. But not _soon_ soon. And maybe not _ever_. Thus… well, thus this message.

But… there is still that spark of hope in me, because these are my _babies_. I love these stories more than you can possibly know, and the fact that they've been so irrevocably ruined and tainted for me, twisted by a man whom I once loved, who I trusted, and by others who made me feel unsafe in a place that had become like a second home… it breaks my heart, to be cliché. To be fricking dramatic, honestly. But really, these stories meant… _mean_ so much to me, even still. And it hurts me _so much_ , not to be able to finish them. But I can't write one word without wanting to start crying right now, and that's going to take a long time to heal from.

Yes, I know, "don't let him take this from you," is something I've heard time and again, and it's something I've told myself many times, and I haven't. Not really. I reposted my stories when he didn't want me to. I started writing again, new stories and updates, before and after I left him, and I've fought tooth and nail for what I have right now. For where I am. But I also need to do what is healthy for me mentally. There is being strong, and then there is being _too strong_ , pushing yourself past the shattering point, not knowing when to stop. Right now I need to stop. Need to heal. Then... well, then I'll re-evaluate. See what I can do. See how strong I am, what I can handle. I know I'm strong, that's not the question... but, well... mental health is a tricky bitch, eh?

At least the bastard's finally gone. July 4th, 2017, separated. December 22nd, 2017, divorced. Thank God. And thank you, _every single one of you_ , whether you knew you were doing it or not (simply giving me a kudos, or a comment/review, or a fav/follow/subscription was showing me more love than you know during all of this darkness), for standing by me.

But truly.

 _Truly_.

I understand your frustration, and it makes me really sad and upset, too, believe me—for _you_ as my reader.

Because I get it. Lord, do I ever. I'm a reader, too, right? Or did you forget? ;) But really… how many times have I read a WiP and then it just… never gets updated? It makes me so sad to have to do that here, at least as it stands right now. I know I always a) wondered what happened next in the story… but also b) wondered if the author was okay.

So here I am giving you my answer to (B)— I _am_ okay, and will be okay, I promise. ^_^

 **And (A)… if you** _ **really,**_ _ **really**_ **want to know what happens in the rest of whichever story it is you're reading, you can come poke me on Tumblr on the handle 'juuls'.**

I do, at least, have a couple of oneshots, drabbles and ficlets that are complete, as well as one complete multi-chapter Reylo fic called Delicious Ambiguity, if you haven't read it already. I hope that that can sate at least some of you. :P

I know that this was a really long message, and I thank any and all of you who gave this a read. Truly, I appreciate it. I wanted to give you all nothing but the truth and, honestly, I've been putting this announcement off for quite a while, scared to tell you, my readers, about what I see as a failure—even if it isn't.

It's cathartic in a way.

 _Thank you for listening._

With all my love,  
Meaghan


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